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balkanradfem · 1 year

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So, remember a few posts ago when I made up a game to go outside and identify every tree I see, but I had to give it up because it's February? And nothing has leaves? I remembered later this doesn't apply to evergreens! Evergreens are still out there, and actually much more easy to point out, now that everything else is bare.

So. This is the knowledge I gathered from various sources from the internet!

Pines have long needles and they grow together in bunches, their silhouette is rounded at the edges, distinct and easy to recognize.

Spruce's branches are always pointed up, and grow upwards. Their needles grow in all directions out of the branches. Their needles also have 4 sides to them, and are easy to roll between fingers.

Fir's needles grow only to the left and right, and leave the middle of the branch exposed. The back of the needles have 2 white lines. Their lower branches point down.

Yew's needles are soft to touch, their color is more vibrant than the other evergreens, they grow red berries on them. Their needles also only grow from the sides, and not in the middle. Yew is the poisonous one that must not be mistaken for the rest!

With this info in my mind, I set off! This is the first evergreen tree I found, right in front of the building. I never tried to figure out what it was before.

It looks majestic. What I can see here, is needles growing in every direction from the little tip I took off, so I decided it has to be spruce.

The next tree I noticed was in someone's backyard, but I wouldn't let that deter me! It was big and noticeable from far away! So. I sneaked in to take a picture:

Isn't it beautiful? This one also has needles growing from all directions, so it has to be another spruce. But, this one also has some tiny cones growing? I noted that as interesting, and moved on to the next.

Then I saw these two in people's backyard:

And I thought, well what are these? At first I thought, cypress, but these are obviously two different things, and they seem to be bushes at that, and I didn't research any bush varieties, so I had to let that go for now. If anyone can tell me their names I would love that!

And then I found lots more of similar trees!

They were definitely planted for decoration, and they're planted all together, but some of them have kind of a purple berry (cone?) growing on them, while some don't, and I'm not sure if they're the same species. Though I do think sometimes trees will grow their fruit only from the side that is more exposed to the sun, so it's possible the branches without berries are just underexposed to the light.

So the next several trees I found were spruces, or so it seems. I'm starting to get suspicious, because first, why didn't I know we were in a spruce-supremacy biome, second, why do all of these trees look so different? Look at them:

Look how janky some of them look! That is fun! Is that really a spruce? They all had needles growing in all directions, and the tips of their branches pointing up, but I'm starting to get suspicious and feel like these are different varieties of trees and we just called them all 'spruce' and moved on.

Then I, on purpose, went to the place with pines, where I usually harvest my pine needles for tea. This is, one of the most beautiful pines in the city:

This is not even a good picture of her, this being is divine. She's about the only thing that makes this place livable, every time I see her I'm astounded and filled with awe, she's so gorgeous and lush and perfect? Her shape? The feeling of being closer to heaven when you look at her? She has it all. I don't even know how they made that gorgeous tree grow next to such an ugly building. Anyway.

Close by is a little park made out of pine trees, I was able to find a little pine cone! And here are the pine needles:

These can be eaten, added into meals, they can be made into syrups, tinctures, and they make a very calming tea! You can also weave a basket with them, which I did once! Blessed source of life.

Spruce and Fir needles are also edible and medicinal, but I've never tried them, so I'm not gonna talk about that yet. But here's whats NOT edible. The deadly yew tree:

She's so soft to touch, it's almost impossible not to recognize. If you touch an evergreen and it's super soft and pliable, do not eat it! She's also beautiful and vibrant with her colors, I took pictures of this tree before, just because it was so pretty. You can see the needles also grow only on the sides, and not in every direction like the spruce.

And then, I noticed this tree from the road, and it was Different from all of the others. Firstly, it was growing new shoots, which most of the others were not into. Second, it looked super lush and healthy. I couldn't back out further to take a better picture because of the cars behind me, but I grabbed a little shoot, and checked it.

And see these needles how they're only growing to the sides, and not from the middle? And when you turn the needles on the other side, I know you can't see it, but there were 2 white lines on them! I've found a Fir!

That was the first, and the only fir I've found. I was so happy, relieved, and thrilled to find, all 4 evergreen species in walking distance of my residence. I also was pleased to know that my methods of recognition were true, firs really do have white lines on the underside of needles. Who knew!

Now, these are not all of the trees I've found, but the rest I found only gave me more questions than answers. I've found some baby spruces that looked completely different, like this:

And while I do find these adorable, I wanna know why are they so different? Is it because they're tiny? They look more lush and healthy, is it because they're cared for or they're different, imported species? Why is that last tree in the middle of cone production, while the other spruces are after different businesses? If this is a matter of different varieties then I'm personally offended nobody explained this to me.

Also, I found this bush? And it smelled? Incredible??

The scent of this was thousandfold the power of any other plant. Smelling this transported me into a thousand old forest and underground. After touching this, my entire hand smelled like it for the rest of my trip, I could smell nothing else. It was pine-like but also plant like, and deeper, stronger, like I was smelling not the ends of the plant but the middle of a tree, the center, the roots and the soil. I took a bit of it home to smell. I think it will do me good. Further research revealed that this is a juniper bush, well known for its intense and overpowering scent!

I'm happy to report that this tree ID mission has cured my anxiety for the day, made me feel like a sneaky little secret scientist, gave me special inside knowledge of the evergreen tree society around me and had me meet some awesome trees! I also found some I didn't even know were growing close to me. I looked into making the syrup from the needles, but found out it required outrageous amount of sugar, so I gave up on it. I'm going to use little branches and shoots I took to make tea out of all of the edible plants instead.

#evergreen trees #fir #pine #spruce #yew #tree ID game #juniper bush #don't take this as educational tool #i'm an amateur my information is surface level here #i'm just pointing finger saying Tree!!!#Research on your own!!!!#I will however completely trust my conclusions and drink tea from all of the needles hehehehehe #except yew i dont wanna die #this was such a fun time outside #and i learned a lot #i can't wait to go ID more trees

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missshame · 6 months

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I hate studying I just wanna create stuff and see the world I hate how little control I have over my life

#Let's make it clear I know I'm lucky to get higher education and I'm grateful for it + knowledge can be the greatest tool #It's just that medschool is killing me and there's just too much stuff to learn and I'm struggling so badly with it that at the end of the #day it feels like I'm not learning anything and I'm completely dumb and uneducated #I'm not even a good student but it takes all my energy and even when I'm not studying I rarely have the energy to do anything #The only thing I sorta do consistently is working out because it makes my brain shut up for a while and it helps the muscle pain I got from #All the stress and sitting at my desk/working long days at the hospital #Anyway I love complaining sorry #I just feel like I had /have a very creative artsy nature and I'm really suffering from the lack of it like not in a I don't have enough #time for my hobbies and to relax #Which is already bad enough btw I don't think it should be considered normal for anyone to be too exhausted to do anything outside of work #But I really feel it in a I'm not myself anymore it's hard to move forward and build confidence and a sense of self while having a life so #far away from what you love and feel like you need + denying yourself what you desire the most can't be good to your brain let's face it #Anyway long story short first thing I'm gonna do when I finally get my degree is by me some drums learn the guitar and paint on the walls #And in the meanwhile Idk do I keep living this way? If I do will I go completely insane?#Or do gift myself the right to give up on the idea of being a slightly less bad student and do I say fuck it and start living my life now ?#Idk! Idddkkk !!!#Oh my god

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i-wanna-b-yours · 1 year

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one of my friends just got up and dropped out, but then we convinced him to finish his schooling and I'm still trying to convince him for college...and this dude is just obsessed with making YouTube...and nobody is stopping him from that, we just want him to have a safe career to fall on when times are hard...

#you don't understand...we are indian middle class people...education means everything to us #and education is the safest tool to climb up the social ladder for many #and having a back up job doesn't sound bad when you take into consideration that #making it big on youtube takes quite a while #and his gf (one of my very close friends) got a chance at princeton....idk what she sees in him #ik i am supposed to be a good friend but i call people out on their bullshit and dumb decisions

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violet-eng · 4 months

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F!reader spoils Lil Dragon!Zhongli... at first | Fluff🧸 (with dragon)+ 🔞 (with human Zhongli)

🎨by: @nagarnia_art and @JeanGreyCG

Summary: You're doing some research in the woods, looking for certain minerals, when you feel some tiny tiny eyes staring at you. After Zhongli morpps from a dragon to a human, things get a bit... hot...

Tw: with human Zhongli smut 🔞, PIV. Insinuations of breeding season, with dragon Zhongli just some cute Dragon behavior bc I ended up traumatized after writing some angst.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ● ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Your research is going well. Your reports to the Fontaine Science Institute were successful during your last expedition, earning you praise from your superiors. You have been living in Liyue for over six months. After learning about minerals that can emanate energy, you sought out information to educate yourself on the subject.

The rocks in Liyue seem to have a memory, possibly due to the work of their Archon or as a natural result of high evolution and energetic vestiges from ancient wars.

Zhongli, the Parlor consultant, had told you about a spot at the foot of a valley that might interest you, and you were amazed. You had no reason to doubt the man's wisdom. You had formed a deep bond of friendship with him because you admire his extensive knowledge about everything. You set off almost immediately. He had offered to accompany you, but you had refused because you prefer to do your research alone, surrounded by nature and away from the attractive distraction that Zhongli could become.

Your friend is attractive, in a way that you tried to express in your letters to your friends at Fontaine, but never succeeded. Your banal words and names do not do justice to the physique of this man of unshakable character, steely sense, and tenacious gaze. You could not bear to make a mistake in his presence during the expedition, not because you were clumsy, but because his figure moved your senses, your ground, and betrayed your own perceptions.

So, as you walk through a pleasant area of foliage, covered by the fierce, scorching rays of the sun, you decide to let your guard down, to take off your jacket and your gloves. You use a ribbon to tie up your hair as you walk on, arriving at the place Zhongli had shown you beforehand. The passage is strangely comfortable, very suitable for a quiet investigation, full of strange figures of small rocks of irregular and curious shapes.

Under the canopy of large trees, you spread out your arsenal of tools on the grass, put on your protective visors, and get to work. Sequencing the rock profile takes little time, your agile skills allowing you to avoid unnecessary pauses or clumsy backtracking typical of an amateur. Then you take the samples, tiny particles that do not alter the correct and productive nature that King Geo has protected for years, and while you wait for the filtering to finish, a strange sensation runs down your spine.

You had let your guard down during your experiment, letting the peaceful appearance of the place convince you, something very unprofessional on your part. So you turn to the side and feel a presence. Among the bushes, you spot a pair of curious little spheres, and you jump as the leaves rustle in the presence of an unknown being.

A deep relief washes over you as the creature in question appears on the scene. A small dragon, microscopic in physiognomy compared to adult forms, with curious eyes and a golden tail twisted into a spiral. Its little paws make furrows in the ground, its face dejected, as if it had been caught doing something illegal.

"Little one, have you been watching me all this time?" You ask the cute little creature, who hides his head between his front paws, realizing he can't do it with his tail, which isn't long enough.

"Come here, don't be afraid of me," you whisper, approaching it cautiously, holding out your hands.

The dragon gathers itself in its own anatomy, growling low, sounding almost like a common cat, you can't help but laugh at it. You bring your fingers up to the growling pellet and stroke its head, right between its underdeveloped horns. You notice a puff of breath coming from the little guy's nose.

"How cute, you liked that, didn't you?" you laugh as you stroke his head and then his back, causing the miniature dragon's tail to wag.

"Come, sit with me, we'll have to wait a long time until the filtering is finished," you take him in your hands, on your palms.

"Wow... I've never seen one of your species so small... and those scales," you comment, bringing your face close to the reptile's, "I'd swear you have very, very soft skin, you're very rare, uh," you add, while you turn to your tools, which emit a strange smell.

You leave the dragon on the ground and approach your machinery, no, nothing out of place... well, now you can turn your attention to the little guy who... what is he doing?

You notice the tiny creature rubbing against your foot, making strange squeaks. It's... it's mating with your shoe? You burst out laughing and shake your foot, pushing it away and picking it up again.

"You horny little bugger," you say, poking him in the nose, "I forgot that your species is in mating season. I regret to inform you that you will get nowhere with me, I am not of the same species... ours is impossible."

A sad sigh escapes from the little animal's chest, and you notice how its whole face becomes depressed, its horns and ears seem to droop in deep disappointment.

"Don't cry," you say, putting it on the ground in the grass and lying down in front of it, "we can play if you want, to distract you a little”.

That got his attention, because he looked at you again. He walks up to you with his little paws and puts one on your nose, he starts to sniff you with that little button in the middle of his little face.

"Ohhh... do you want a little kiss?" you ask, flooded with tenderness, "I would do anything to make you happy" you say, placing a tender kiss on the dragon's forehead. Is like a puppy...

The dragon retraces his steps, accelerating and rolling his head in madness. You see him writhing in place, as if he had suddenly fallen ill, and then... poof... a golden flash and a trail of smoke, ike the one he had just exhaled through his nose. A faint wave of heat and a faint smell of sulfur as a figure began to form behind the column of smoke.

You straightened up in your seat as the column disintegrated, revealing the very embarrassed image of Zhongli, covering his mouth as he coughs, with traces of smoke and golden flames escaping from his throat.

He is wearing little clothing, a tunic of the same color as the skin of the dragon you spoke to earlier... is that perhaps...?

"You," you point an accusing finger at Zhongli, and he looks at you with flushed cheeks, "what was that? Aren't you going to say anything about it?" you say to the man, appearing to be annoyed, although in reality, seeing him in that outfit has aroused something pleasurable in you.

"Well?" you insist.

"Are you going to give me that kiss or?" he interjects, his voice still weak and embarrassed.

His embarrassment fades for the next hour, during which he relentlessly thrusts himself into you, waiting for your boring explorer machine to end.

The filtering of the rocks continues, the particles falling into the vessel like sand in a crystal clock. The small machines emit tiny clicks and a faint plume of smoke and gas. The rumble of the cycle's drumbeat advances in rhythm with your moans as you feel Zhongli sink deep into you.

You lie on the grass, your pants and panties around your ankles, your hands on your head clinging to the foliage, your waist encircled by Zhongli's large hands holding you steady so he can work his way into your pussy. You feel his pelvic bone against your center, his balls against your skin, and then he pulls away to enter again. Gently, lovingly, afraid to break you and hurt you. He's painfully slow, but how good it feels.

You hear him make low, rasping noises as faint plumes of smoke rise from his nose, as when he looked like a dragon. His cock twists inside you, slapping against your cervix, massaging your wet, warm depths that mold to the shape of his member. You feel the warmth rush down your legs, an electric current coursing through every fiber of your limbs, your chest heaving in desperation.

The orgasm hits you both at the same time, decorating Zhongli's cock with a white ring as his cum spills into you like thick ropes from his ecstasy. He pulls back your panties and pants, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.

"May I mark you?" he asks with a look of honor, his face sublime and devoted.

"Don't even think about it," you say, joining in, noticing the sadness in his eyes, "we weren't even supposed to do it. It was just supposed to be a kiss and that's it," you seem to scold him, though it's you who's scolding yourself for being so unseemly and impetuous, though damn... you've enjoyed it so much... ....

Sensing your hostile tone, Zhongli wraps himself up and immediately transforms into his small reptilian form.

"Please stop being so dramatic," you express, leaning against one of the tree trunks and letting out a laugh. "Come back... I don't want to wait alone," you say, crossing your legs and putting your jacket down.

Zhongli, the dragon, approaches you with short steps, due to the length of his small legs, and climbs onto your lap, where he rubs the fabric of your coat, nestling into the fabric to take refuge, and lets out a yawn before closing his eyes and settling down for a nap. You stroke his back and coo to the little creature, feeling him purr like a cat.

"How cute you are when you sleep," you laugh, stroking his nose, causing him to bite your finger, "did you just mark me without my permission?" You ask, but he just squeals and jumps off your lap, looking for a way to escape. You catch him with your coat and throw it at him like a fleeing rat, but he manages to escape and hide in the bushes... you don't see him again for the rest of the afternoon, but you know that when you return to Liyue Harbour you will demand an apology, an explanation... and maybe a round two.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #zhongli x

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simplyjustkate · 5 months

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How to Change in 2024

1.CREATE A ROUTINE

Some of your best intentions fail because you don't have a system of execution.

Your new habits and behaviors must be incorporated into your routine to see changes.

Get the "Digital Time Blocking Planner" to Create a better structure in your day.

2. WAKE UP EARLY

Waking up at 5 a.m. Or earlier provides a head start and allows you to have time for activities such as:

• Exercise

• Studying the Deen

• Planning

• Being productive

• Working on a project

These activities will lead you to become the best version of yourself

How I wake up at 05:00 am:

1. Sleep early 20:00

2. To fall asleep, move and exercise

3. Plan the night before

4. Remember why you're waking up early

5. Don't hit snooze

6. It's a process, you will get there.

3.MOVEMENT AND NUTRITION

A one-hour workout is 4% of your day. No Excuses.

The food you eat significantly affects your mood, performance, and well-being.

These exercises yield the best results:

• Running

• Swimming

• Lifting weights

• Pilates

These exercises will quickly strengthen and tone your body

4.SELF-EDUCATE

Education is one thing no one can take away from you.

Online Skills you can Develop:

• Web development

• Mastering no-code tools

• YouTube

• Copywriting

• Digital Marketing

• Content Creation

• Influencer marketing

• Audience building

Practical Steps to Self-educate:

1. Sign up for Online Classes

2. Attend Seminars and Workshops

3. Read Non-Fiction Book

4. Gain Experience - volunteer or intern

5. Find a Mentor

6. Enjoy the process and don’t fear making mistakes

5.JOURNALING FOR 10MIN

Writing down your thoughts and feelings for the purpose of self-understanding, awareness and reflection.

Writing down thoughts such as:

• Your daily goals

• Reflections on negative thoughts

• Emotional processing

• Expressions of gratitude

• Find clarity

Block 10-15min everyday to write your thoughts down.

6.RELY ON DISCIPLINE

Discipline and consistency are the key to becoming the best version of yourself.

Forget about MOTIVATION,ACTION ACTION ACTION!

If you aren't good at something, work harder AND work smarter.

Build Discipline:

1. Identify what drives you

- The pain of staying the same drives me.

2. Pushing your boundary

- Doing a little more.

3. Control your emotions

- You don't feel like it, do it anyway.

4. Become 1% better every day

- Choosing to wake up early and get to work instead of scrolling on social media.

5. Big goals and small steps

- Set specific targets to reach.

Inconsistency and indiscipline is the enemy of results

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

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You don't think matcha is tea????

Matcha isn't a Tea in my humble Opinion.

Matcha is an experience.

The year is 2009, the place is the University of Hawai'i at Manoa in Honolulu, and I am recovering from a still-undiagnosed disease that left me with a 100+ degree for over three weeks, extreme weight loss and permanent Brain Damage. I have signed up for an introductory Art History class because I need an additional Humanities credit.

It's called "The History and Philosophy of the Japanese Tea Ceremony", and for a class I can only sort of remember, it stands out.

So I'm in professor Roberts' Japanese Tea Ceremony class, looking and feeling like death warmed over, but I'm genuinely interested in the subject matter and show up to every class because I have nothing better to do, and ask questions and turn in my homework, even if neither are particularly coherent at times, and rapidly become his favorite student. The thing I learned in public school was how to show up to events even if I don't want to, analyze tests and other written materials for patterns and charm educators by holding up my end of a conversation, skills that have served me in the modern world far more than learning actual course content would have.

The Tea Ceremony, historically, takes a good month to prepare and the entire evening to carry out- the guest list is curated to create social bonds and intellectual stimulation alike, a poem is composed for the season, and a seasonal flower arrangement created to decorate the space. When the guests arrive, they must all crawl through a small door to enter the tea garden, regardless of profession or rank. Hands are ritually washed in spring water, and there is a slow processional walk through the garden, to admire the artistry of the landscaping, and the composition of seasonal elements to create this particular night of beauty. The entire ceremony is about appreciating both the joy of existing right now, in this time and place, and the unification of the self and the universe and the endless cycles of nature.

The guests arrive at the tea house and meet the Tea Master, who will be making the Matcha that evening. The guests are seated in particular order, the Most Revered Guest- sometimes a high-ranking official, sometimes a visiting scholar or artist- is seated closest to the Tea Master. The Poem is read aloud. The Flowers are admired. The tools for making the Matcha are taken out, examined as objects of art, and their history told. The matcha powder itself is taken out- the case examined, the cultivation of the tea discussed, and only then does the Tea Master make the Tea.

Matcha is not brewed- it's a fine powder made of crushed green tea leaves, and the powder is whisked together with not-quite-boiling water in a bowl to create a much more substantial and flavorful drink. This drink is presented to the Most Revered Guest first, who is expected to take a sip and, in a moment of Zen spiritual clarity, comment on its flavor and how all the elements of the tea, art, garden and season all complement each other, and perhaps offer some sort of philosophical statement.

At least,

That's how it's supposed to go.

About a month before the spring semester is over, Professor Roberts announces that he has a surprise for his class- a good friend of his, a Professional Tea Master, will be visiting Hawai'i, and has agreed to perform a Tea Ceremony for our class! I am very excited. The other 10 people in class are varying levels of amiably confused to distressed by having to go to An Event (TM) for a grade, but agree. One of my classmates, an astrology hoe named Jessica, pointed out that with the 11 students, Professor Roberts, and the Tea Master, there will be 13 people present, which is basically inviting disaster.

"Jessica." Sighed Professor Roberts. "It's a Tea Ceremony. What disaster could happen?"

Despite Jessica's misgivings, Preparations for the ceremony went on. We learned about Ikebana while deciding on the Ceremonial Bouquet and tried our hands at it with what Professor Robert could get at the grocery store for $12. We learned about calligraphy and different types of poetic compositions while making the Seasonal Poem, and stain the hell out of the classroom carpet learning the brush strokes. We learn about different types of Matcha Bowl sculpting and glazing and we are not allowed to touch the demonstration bowls or the kiln because Professor Roberts was beginning to suspect that some of his students (me) were suffering from coordination issues. I apply myself with zeal, if not necessarily talent. I was, at the time, an Art Major, but my professors in the art department had been grading me on a secret "this bitch almost died last semester and is re-learning how to hold a pencil" curve, and boy howdy did I stumble and break leaves and splatter ink like it.

Despite my ongoing unmonitored recovery, Professor Roberts viewed my enthusiastic class participation with rose-colored glasses, and about a week before the ceremony we had a class where he brought out the used Kimonos and Obi and other forms of japanese dress he'd borrowed from the theater department so that we would be traditionally dressed(ish) and experience the ceremony authentically(ish). While people were trying on clothes to see what would fit, he took me aside and told me he wanted me to be in the position of Most Revered Guest, the person who makes the zen statement upon which the entire event hinges.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked.

"You're the only person who doesn't fall asleep in class and you talked about how the flowers stagger their blooms to not compete for the bees- you're perfectly engaged and conscious of the seasons!" He said, blindly. "You will need different shoes though." He indicated my flip-flops. "I won't make you learn how to walk in Geta, but nothing with Heels. Ballet flats are fine."

"...These are the only shoes I own." I said.

Professor Roberts stared at me.

"-I used to have a pair of sneakers but I think a homeless guy stole them while I was at the beach last month."

"What?" Roberts blinked.

"He probably needed them more than I do. I'll see if I can borrow some flats."

"...I don't think I've ever met a woman with less than 10 pairs of shoes." Said Roberts.

"I'm not a woman, I'm and undergrad." I said, still three years away from learning the term 'Nonbinary'. "Those are Jordan's only pair of shorts, you know." I pointed at my classmate, who had been wearing the one (1) pair of basketball shorts for the entire semester.

"I WASH THEM." Jordan shouted defensively, wearing the longest Men's Kinmo the theater department had, which barely came down to the top of his calves.

"Oh God." Said Roberts, a horrifying new world opening up to him like a tub of Expired sour cream.

It was the day of the Ceremony.

The Seasonal Theme we'd worked on was "The Turn Of Summer", and the weather was complying maliciously.

Normally, Tea Ceremonies are scheduled for the more temperate evening, but due to the school needing to host something in the adjoining cultural center later, we could only use the Tea Garden in the middle of the afternoon, and the summer sun was a sweltering 98 degrees and a similar level of Humidity. The Camelias were melting.

Where Jordan had difficulty finding a Kimono that suited his ent-like proportions, I'd had the opposite problem and the only Kimono short enough to not trip my Hobbit-sized self was a Child’s size. My roommate had helped me get into the Kimono and Obi before the ceremony, and leant me a pair of her Ballet Flats, but we discovered an issue- this Kimono was designed for a flat-chested prepubescent youth, and even though I barely scraped 5'0", I had the robust proportions of an Irish Peasant, and the only way to avoid displaying a frankly offensive amount of cleavage was to use the widest Obi we could find and sort of tuck my boobs into it.

"Hm" I said. "Kind of hard to breathe."

"Yeah, but you're sitting for most of it, right? It can't last more than an hour, so just like, shuffle and don't talk much?" She suggested.

To her credit, the first forty-five minutes of the ceremony only involved shuffling through the gardens and not talking while the Tea Master lectured us on some of the finer points of the garden's design.

But then we got to the Tea House- a small structure only barely able to accommodate the 13 of us, which was in the shade but hotter than the outside because of the roaring fire in the middle of the room, where the water for the Matcha was boiling. The room was surrounded by a narrow sort of porch, part of which hung over the Koi pond, where several massively overfed carp blurbled expectantly for treats at the arrival of humans. I sat down, legs folded under me like Professor Roberts had insisted, and realized that this pushed the Obi UP, and now my rib cage was being compressed in all directions.

I tried to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony, but two and a half hours is an awfully long time to listen about lecturers you've already heard when your body is undergoing a sort of internal horserace to see if the heatstroke, sciatica pain and numbness, allergies or suffocation-by-compression will cause you to pass out first. My legs had gone numb below the knee by the time we were done with the flower arrangement. My entire legs were numb before we were done with the Poem. By the time the Tea Utensils came out, I was seeing spots of colored light in my vision and could only breathe if I focused on it very, very hard.

But! The ceremony was genuinely interesting! and Professor Roberts was counting on me! So I did my best not to sway or throw up from watching the Tea Master whisk the Matcha, and dutifully took the bowl with a pair of hands that felt like slabs of ham that I was attempting to puppet from another dimension, and took a sip.

They say that Smell and Taste are far more closely connected to the emotional centers of the brain than any other sense, and I believe it because the instant I inhaled both the grassy, powdery smell, and tasted the moderately viscous bubbly liquid, I experienced an intense flashbulb memory back to a previous late May-

The Year was '98, the place was my elementary school art room, and we'd been using the seasonal hot weather to paint on a massive scale as the art dried quickly- each third-grader had been given a roll of butcher paper, a cheap brush, squirts of non-toxic paint and a water cup, and allowed to go hog-wild on our murals, and the rush of creative energy and the imminent sense of freedom as the semester drew to a close truly embodied the summer of youth, carefree but with an almost psychotic fervor, where lack of care was both freeing and dangerous as you lost track of your surroundings in the act of creation-

Which isn't a bad seasonal-philosophical connection statement to make, but the actual words that came out of my mouth were:

"Wow. This tastes exactly like paint."

The first sound I heard after the moment of silence was the cartoonishly loud gasp of horror from Professor Roberts, which was almost immediately drowned out by the thunderclap of laughter from the Tea Master, slapping his thighs and wiping tears from his face, unable to stop. I desperately tried to explain the connection between the fact I might be dying of heat stroke right now, and how I ended up drinking my paint water back in Mrs. Krantz's art class because back then I was also dying of heat stroke, but mostly ended up wheezing half-formed sentences as the rest of the class took sips and offered opinions varying between "Wow, that's thick. Like a Hot smoothie." and "Oh yeah, it tastes like summer. Like how a freshly-mowed lawn smells like summer." Professor Roberts slowly melted into a pile of shame, and the Tea Master slapped him on the back, still howling with laughter.

"They're honest! Nobody else will be honest! This is magnificent!" he wheezed.

Eventually, everyone had their taste, and the ceremony was concluded. The second the Tea Master had packed up his tools and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, Professor Roberts was in my face.

"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?" he hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. "GO APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!" he shoved me out onto the porch where the Tea Master was looking at the Koi, who had started bubble-begging aggressively again.

Except that my legs felt like blocks of wood that my pelvis was renting from another planet where legs hadn’t been invented yet, my vision was entirely static between the dehydration and lack of oxygen, and my vestibuar system had fucked off an hour ago, leaving me to stay upright by purely by the virtue of the over-tightened Obi. So instead of bowing and apologizing profusely like my professor expected, what I actually did was stumble out of the room, say something like "Hsdfkf" and topple head-first into the koi pond.

Fortunately, the impact of the bottom of the pond with the top of my skull activated a sort of last-resort emergency self preservation system and I inhaled with enough force to break the Obi-Jime and probably a couple ribs from the pain that hit both my sides like lightning. Unfortunately, the thing I was inhaling was fish-shit riddled Pond Water, so my emergency self-preservation system ordered an even harder Exhale.

The Tea Master, to his immense credit, had immediately jumped in after me, and pulled me upright just in time for me to forcibly exhale half a gallon of rancid pond water directly into his face, then start screaming. Screaming is an extremely appropriate reaction to have when injured, because it alerts everyone that you require medical attention, but is very unpleasant to experience from four inches away, which is probably why he then immediately dropped me.

Fortunately the pond wasn't very deep and this time I sat there, scream-gasping as my lungs reinflated, Koi fish burbling and sucking at me with tremendous excitement, until the EMT from the campus clinic arrived, a vanguard before the actual ambulance.

"Okay uh. You're bleeding." he said, cautiously wading into the pond.

I opened my eyes to find that I had apparently acquired a large and profusely bleeding head wound, which had activated some long-suppressed Shark Instincts in the Koi, which were eagerly gumming at the streams of blood and trying to suck on my forehead. "Good thing they don’t have teeth." I said in the distant bliss that only zen masters and people with serious head injuries get to experience.

"Do you want a towel?" he asked, helping me up.

"No, this is rather refreshing, actually." I said, still absolutely smashed on endorphins, Koi still enthusiastically swarming at my kneecaps.

"I mean like for your-" the EMT Gestured Vaguely at my torso.

I looked down and realized that not only had I broken the Obi-jime, the entire Obi had come undone and was floating several feet away, and I was only wearing the Kimono, fallen completely off my shoulders and was only being prevented from performing a full Lady Godiva by the valiant efforts of the safety pin my roommate had put in to keep it folded correctly while we figured out the Obi.

"Professor Roberts?" I stood up all the way, soaking wet, bleeding from my forehead with such force as to create actual streams of blood down my face, neck and chest, tits out, and addressed the poor man standing, white-faced on the deck above the pond. "I don't think I'm going to be in class on Monday-" I paused to fish a small Koi that had gotten trapped in the remains of the now-ruined Kimono, and tossed it back into the pond. "-Can I schedule a make-up exam for the Final?"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET IN THE AMBULANCE!" He screamed.

I was x-rayed for a skull fracture, but my lifelong membership to the Lactose Tolerance Club had protected me, and I happily texted my roommate to come pick me up as "They x-rayed my head and found nothing" while the doctor stitched part of my scalp back together.

The following morning, I discovered that Professor Roberts had graded my exam before I took it. 100%. Truly, the best way to get a good grade on your finals is to get a serious head injury.

So, Matcha is not a Tea, in my humble opinion.

Matcha is an Experience.

And sometimes that experience is drinking something almost exactly like paint, ruining an important cultural ceremony, traumatizing your professor, and introducing a bunch of fish to the taste of human flesh.

***

If this made you laugh, there are more funny stories on My Patreon, or you can help support me by tipping my Ko-Fi. Thank You.

#Family Lore #Tea Ceremony #Matcha #injury mention #blood mention

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artsekey · 3 months

Text

I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

#computers #pc #digital #rant #something something planned obsolescence

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wontontrap · 4 months

Text

✿ 18+

✿ part I of Eddie with religious virgin!reader

✿ part II will be based on this post

✿ cannon Eddie speak in this, he's very sassy

✿ reader is innocent but not naive

✿ summary: reader looks to Eddie's inventory to help her pass exams and a seemingly innocuous action by Eddie drives her into his arms

✿ content warnings: fem reader, drug use, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, sheltered religious!reader, virgin!reader, experienced Eddie, slightly mean!Eddie in the beginning, poking fun at reader

✿ dividers by the 🐐 @firefly-graphics

You pace the woods nervously. He had replied "3:30" to the note you passed him in study hall. Each passing minute made you more nervous and all you needed was the help of a tiny white pill to pass your exams. You'd taken it before as a child. Your father always said you were "rambunctious and unlearned" the first years of your life, but he made you stop taking it when you hit puberty. "Drugs like that make people your age want to sin with the opposite sex," he had told you.

You never needed medication as a child, you were just too much for your mother. She hated the way you used to ruin your white dresses with mud. You hated dolls. You hated ballet. She let the doctors drug you saying, "She just won't behave!" But, now you did need the meds. You were teetering on the edge of passing chemistry, and you refused to repeat another grade. Suddenly, you heard a rustle in the bushes.

Eddie walked through the brush, swatting at something in the air near his head, metal lunch pail rattling in his hand.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you squeaked.

He sat down at the old picnic table in the clearing and popped open the box. You lingered nearby, standing stick straight and holding a heavy textbook close your chest.

"You sure you want the uppers?" he asked, squinting at a handful of orange pill containers with badly handwritten labels.

"Yes," you said. "I need to pass exams."

"Yeah," he says, looking up at you now. "I thought I was a loser, but a 19 year old junior? That's some feat of failure."

"My father doesn't believe in secular education," you blurt out, and he looks at you confused. "He says our true education comes from God, but the truant officers disagree."

"That's stupid," he blatantly says. "Why didn't they just make you do school at home like a Mormon or something?"

You can't help but giggle and you see a smirk threaten to appear on Eddie's face. "Every night I have Bible study with my parents until it's time to go to bed," you divulge. "I've never even opened this, so I have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're planning on reading a 2,000 page textbook in the three hours before 4th period chemistry?"

"Only the important parts," you say, hugging the book close to your chest. You smile at him so the corners of your eyes crease a bit.

He smiles back at you. "You're cute," he says. He tosses the bottle of pills at you and you fumble the heavy textbook while trying to catch it. It thuds to the ground as you scramble for the pill bottle. He's staring at you intently, the threat of the smirk finally carried out on his face. You recover from your cartoonish antics and notice him looking at you.

"What?" you ask, patting yourself down. "Is there something on me?"

You wore a peasant dress and heavy cardigan, sleeves well past your small hands. Your white sneakers were scuffed and the scalloped lace of your old socks was torn.

"It's nothing," he says, afterwards clearing his throat. "That'll be $40."

"$40?" you ask, bewildered. "I only brought $25, everyone I asked said it'd be $25!"

"That's for weed, honey, these are real prescription pills. Worth more because they're harder to acquire. I can't grow Ritalin in my tool shed, now can I?" he explains.

"I'd have to go home and get more," you say, scratching the back of your head.

"You've been quite the character, to say the least, but I don't have that kinda time." He starts to get up from the table and you rush over to stop him with hands on his chest.

"Can I pay you in the morning? Please? I'm only taking just the one and I'll pay you $40 at first bell. I promise!" you plead. The bottle of pills sits on the table where you'd just set it, mocking you.

He looks down at your hands splayed across his chest and then back to you. You remove them, backing away from his personal space with flushed cheeks. You're standing there in your oversized sweater, your long sleeves almost kissing the ground at your sides, pouting like a petulant child. He steps slowly over the picnic bench and takes three large strides towards you. He reaches for your chest and your breath hitches as he delicately picks up your small golden cross necklace. The action puts him only inches from your face as he inspects it. It fell just at your cleavage and you caught him looking at you in that way. You felt warm behind your ears and may have made a run for it had he not spoken.

"Is this real?" he asks.

"I-I think so," you stammer.

"You can have your pills, and I'll take $40 first thing tomorrow morning," he agrees. Not long after he finished speaking did he yank the golden cross from around your neck. You jumped slightly, feeling excitement. He held it up to your face, his own still inches from yours, "But, I'm taking this as collateral."

"W-what's that?" you asked.

"Collateral? It means you give me something valuable to hold onto until I get paid. Something you want back so I know you'll bring my money," he explains.

"Okay," you say, touching the spot where it once laid on your chest as you watched him pack up. As he walked by, he slipped the pill bottle into the pocket of your sweater.

"You have nice tits, by the way." he says.

You walk through your front door, the bottle now safely squirreled away inside your school bag. You kick off your shoes onto the designated rug and quietly walk upstairs to your room. You set your bag in your closet before pulling out an old shoe box from the top shelf. Inside you find about $30, a tube of "Ravishing Red" lipstick stolen from the drugstore down the street, and tampons. You take the money and place it inside your bag, wrapping it around the pill bottle. Just as you're closing the closet doors, you hear your bedroom door creak open.

"Sweetheart?" you hear your father's voice. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, daddy!" you say.

He opens the door with a smile. "Your mother has dinner ready and we're expecting you for your studies afterwards."

"Of course, daddy." you say, wringing your hands under your sleeves.

"Babydoll, what happened to your necklace?" he asks.

"What?" you feign surprise, touching that spot once again. "No! It must've fallen off at school!"

"That's okay, honey. Wherever it winds up is where it's supposed to be. God works in mysterious ways," he says. "Someone must've needed it more than you."

You tuck yourself into bed that night replaying in your mind the moment he'd ripped your necklace from you. It had made you feel primal, the only word that came to mind when you searched for ways to describe the feeling. Eddie was handsome and charming. You heard the way some of the other girls talked about him, the things he'd done to them. You wondered what it would feel like if it were you instead of them, a certain feeling spreading inside you. You'd felt this feeling once before. You'd awoken from an unseen face doing obscene things to you in a dream. The only way to alleviate the feeling was to touch yourself. You'd rubbed yourself raw, fervently trying to soothe the ache in you. You'd touched a part of you that night you hadn't known existed, and every time you grazed it, it sent a shiver through you. You reached for yourself again tonight, thinking of Eddie Munson and all the sins you would allow him to commit upon you. Through your ministrations, you fell asleep with your hand between your legs, never reaching true release.

The entire morning was a blur. Eddie was right to have made fun of you. You only read about 200 pages, a slim number of which were actually on the test. You felt you did well but you'd been in such a hurry to accomplish your task that you'd forgotten to meet Eddie in the parking lot when you'd first gotten to school. He passed you in the hall around 6th period, a stern look on his face. "Four o'clock," he'd muttered.

You lie on the picnic table, legs dangling off either side as you stared at the grey and cloudy sky. Your hands were clasped at your chest, feeling your heart still somewhat fluttering like a humming bird. You heard the leaves rustle and you sat up, smoothing your dress. Today you wore a knee length, sleeveless chiffon with ruffles and the same sweater as always. Slouched socks and dirty white high tops. Your hair fell in messy waves, unkempt. Usually your hair would be up in a tight bun, but today it only gave you a headache. He emerged from the brush and looked at you, almost stunned.

"I'm sorry," you meekly say.

"Was it worth it?" he asks, still staring.

"200," you say, "I only made it to 200, but I think I passed."

He chuckles, reaching under his collar to reveal he'd been wearing your small cross necklace. He started to unclasp it as you stayed sat on the table, legs crossed. He held it up to you and it glinted despite the clouds.

"I fixed it," he said, "I, uh, kinda broke it when I took it from you yesterday."

"I had this weird feeling when you did that," you boldly confess.

"And what was that?" he questions. He's behind you now, ready to return your necklace to its original place.

"I don't know," you answer. "It was like warm excitement."

He clasps the necklace then, dragging the cross along the chain so it laid perfectly between your breasts. As he pulls his hands away, one brushes your shoulder.

"Like that," you say. "It happened again."

"It's probably the drugs," he says, almost shyly. "Sometimes those things can give you hot flashes and shit."

"It's not the drugs," you confidently tell him. "I wasn't on anything yesterday. And I'm not hot on the outside. It's like I'm hot on the inside, you know?"

"Oh," he says, hungrily looking at your open pout, "I know."

"Well," you say, reaching into your bra for the money you brought him, "Here's the rest of it." He takes it, giggling like a child.

"What?" you ask him, laughing now yourself.

"That was pretty wild," he answers.

"What do you mean?" you question.

"A good little Christian girl reaches into the best rack I've ever seen and comes back up with drug money for me?" he says. "That's what's pretty wild."

"I'm wild? You're wild, Eddie Munson!" you tell him, playfully hitting him in the chest. He laughs, grabbing both your wrists as you continue to hit him in jest.

"I am a good girl," you tell him. He pauses for a moment, staring at your eyes, then lips.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" he asks.

"Like what?" you question.

"God," he's says. "The viridity. Such effortless innocence. Your yearning is contagious."

His mouth is inches away from yours. He smells faintly of cigarettes, a smell you never enjoyed until this very moment. Your lip trembles as you're in his tight grasp. That warm excitement fills you again as your heart threatens to escape your chest as you think of last night.

"I don't know what any of those words meant, but I think I want to kiss you." you confess.

"Fuck," he whispers against your open mouth. Dropping your hands, he cradles your cheek in his palm. His other arm is wrapped around your waist as you sit on the edge of the picnic table, your chest heaving with shaky breath. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Can I actually kiss you?" he asks.

"Would you, please?" you beg.

He leans into you slowly and his lips meld with yours in your first kiss; soft and warm. You're surprised when his tongue slips into your mouth but your body takes over for you again and soon you're exploring his mouth in the same way he did yours. He was gentle with you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His hand eventually creeped up your waist to your chest and he gently squeezed your breast between a large hand, a ringed finger caressing your peaked nipple. Soon, you began to feel a sticky wetness forming between your legs.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "I'm- I'm wet."

He pulled away from you, lips pink and puffy with pupils blown. "Shit, sweetheart." he whispered. "We should stop."

"No, Eddie." you whine. "Please," you beg. "Please, touch me." You grab his hand, moving it between your legs. "It aches."

Eddie stilled his hand under your dress, grabbing your thigh. "I don't think this is a good idea. I think you still have the jitters."

"Please," you whispered, as you let your sweater fall from your shoulders. You brought your hands up to the straps of your dress, pulling them aside with those of your thin cotton bra, and yanking the bodice down to reveal your bare chest to him.

"I'm fine," you reassure him, taking his free hand and bringing it up to grasp your exposed breast.

"Oh my fucking god," he says, allowing his other hand to slowly trail along your soft thigh and to your soaked center.

"When you swear, it makes me throb inside." you confess.

"Does it?" he asks, finally touching you through the wet fabric of your panties. Your hips lift of their own accord. You start shivering, huffing breaths as he gently touches you. "Virgins always get so fucking soaked. Am I the only man who's ever touched this sweet pussy?" He dips his hand under the fabric of your panties, running his fingers over your wet slit. You would have fallen over had he not let go of your breast to catch you by the waist. He bowed his head, covering your nipple with his hot mouth.

"Oh my god," you said. A silent scream escaping you as you fisted his curls. Your legs spread themselves further, heels on the edge of the picnic table, as he continued to play with your most private parts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you felt a dizzying feeling come on. While he had you distracted he slowly inserted a ringed finger into you, the cool metal stopping to rest on that one sensitive nerve. You gasped abruptly, letting out a whine that bled into a deep moan as he moved his finger slowly in and out of you. He released your nipple and made eye contact with you. His dark eyes were endearing, and he looked at you with unabashed hunger.

"Such a sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy," he whispered.

You moaned again at his words. He felt free to say any of the filthy praises that came to his mind, and you enjoyed it. When he added a second finger to you, you spread your legs as far as you could manage, your dress bunching at your waist. You finally saw him plunged inside of you, wetness coating your thighs and his hand. He began to move his fingers in and out of you faster and with his second hand began playing with the small nub of a nerve. Your face began to get hot and your ears rang as you screwed your eyes shut. You felt a strange sensation and reached for his hand.

"Eddie, stop!" you say, and he does.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I think I have to pee." you say, shamefully. Your cheeks would flush if they weren't already.

Eddie laughs. "Sweetheart, you were about to cum."

"What?" you ask, still embarrassed

"You were probably about to have an orgasm. Some girls say it makes them feel like they have to take a piss," he explains.

"Oh," you say, hiding your face behind your hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," he coos. "Look at me," he says. You remove your hands and look at him, his gentle dominance overtaking any embarrassment you still had. "I know a gentler way to make you cum," he says. "I need to make you cum."

"Lie back," he told you, as he pressed you down on the table with a flat palm to your chest. Your necklace fell to the side, draping itself over your shoulder as you lie there still exposed to him.

He hooked his thumb into your panties, dragging them to the side between his hand and your thigh before clasping his other hand in yours and resting it firmly on your hips. You wondered why he would put you in this position, and your silent question was answered when he dragged his hot tongue along your slit. You tried to lift your hips but couldn't, your free hand reaching down to tangle into his thick hair again. He circled your weeping hole, darting his tongue in and out as it tried to close around it. He drank your nectar, feasting on you like some beast. His soft lips kissed your sensitive nerve, wrapping around it to suck and swirl his tongue. Your breathing changed in that way again and you felt that peculiar feeling.

"Let it happen," he said, hot breath fanning over you.

Relaxing fully for only an instant, something inside you burst and you felt a warmth spread inside you. You felt a small gush of more wetness as your legs began to tingle. You saw spots in your vision as you rolled your hips against Eddie's open mouth. He drank his fill of you, until your breathing slowed and you properly came down from your first orgasm. His hand was moving below his waist, and he stood up revealing his hard cock in his hand. You gasped softly, eyeing it and him.

"It's so big," you innocently say.

"I'd like to think so," he jokes.

"Can I touch it?" you ask.

"You don't have to," he says. "You can just watch me if you want."

"Let me touch you," you say. "I want to."

He inches towards you, guiding your hand to him. You wrap your fingers around him in the way his own were, and he sighs.

"Move your hand up and down," he instructs you. "You can squeeze just a little. Twist your wrist sometimes and focus on the tip."

You do as he tells you, listening to the pornographic sounds he makes. Deep moans and animalistic growls each time you reach the tip of him. He unzips his jeans further, taking out his heavy sack and letting it hang free. "Faster," he says, and you pick up your pace.

"Fuck!" he exclaims. "Keep going, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Gonna make me cum for you."

"Please cum," you say. "I want you to feel good like I did. Should I put it in my mouth?" you ask.

"No time for that today, angel. Pull your panties to the side," he orders, and you pull the damp fabric away from your still sensitive sex.

With both hands around your waist he pulls you across the table towards him, rutting his sack and the base of him against your puffy lips.

"Spread yourself open," he says. You spread your lower lips apart, trying hard not to change the pace of your other hand on his cock. He nestles himself against your hole. Still sensitive, you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch in your grasp.

"Faster," he says. "Harder."

You squeeze him harder, jerking your small hand along his hard shaft as fast as you can. He keeps a tight grip on the plush of your hips, staring at your bare chest.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries out, cumming on your chest. Warm, white ropes cover your breasts. He stands before you convulsing as you continue to pump him in your hand.

"Don't stop" he whispers through breathy moans. You continue palming him until he backs away from you. You reach down, gathering his release with a finger and bringing it to your mouth. You let it linger on your tongue, bland but salty, like sweat.

"What are you doing?" he asks, tucking himself back into his jeans.

"I wanted to know what you taste like," you admitted. "What did I taste like?" you ask.

He charges at you, capturing your mouth in a deep and wandering kiss. Your own musk overtakes him in your mouth as he pulls away.

"Fix yourself," he says. "Unless you want more."

"What if I do?" you ask as you begin to cover up. "Want more."

He looks at you with a gentle lust in his eyes, running a calloused thumb across your lips. "I would love to give you more," he says.

"More is all I have to give," you reply.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader

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vaspider · 11 days

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So I need a more adult persons take on this. Is it wrong to ask people to tag gory/graphic images from gaza? I'm not trying to bury my head in the sand. I don't want to block mention of palastine but god these images are triggering the shit out of me and it isn't making me more aware or more empathetic, I'm already angry and heartbroken and praying and donating what I can.

It is never wrong to ask someone to tag something for any reason. I've asked people to tag animals that I have a phobia of, and mentions of Laika (the first animal in space), because Laika was a good girl and she didn't deserve what happened to her. It was cruel and horrible and it upsets me in a way that I recognize is out of scope for the death of a single dog seventy years ago. That person may decline to tag things for whatever reason, and if that's the case, it isn't wrong for you to unfollow them, block them, add their username to a filter list, whatever you need to do in order to curate your online experience. Without talking directly about the topic you brought up, 'cause it's something I don't do, as I've said about ninety squintillion times -- I used to reblog/post pretty disturbing images of human bodies out of a misguided sense of justice. I have been online for a really long time, and a lot of the stuff that was posted as 'necessary education' Back In The Olden Times were images of police and/or mob brutality visited on Black & brown bodies. Out of a sense of white guilt and a feeling that I should be 'bearing witness' rather than turning away, I perpetuated some of those images, until -- very kindly and gently, I think, for the scope of what was happening -- it was pointed out to me that:

it is unkind to subject the people who have been or might be subject to that sort of racialized terror to images of bodies broken by it, and

it is almost invariably the exact opposite of what the families of those people want, and

it does nothing to actually make me a better person or to advance any sort of real justice, and instead

it simply acts as a grotesque sort of terror tourism or war porn for people who can simply turn off their computer or phone screen and go about their lives.

I am really grateful to the person who took the time to gently shake me. They didn't owe me that, and I'm glad they thought I was a worthwhile investment of time and energy.

Whoever is posting images of bodies or gory images of victims from any injustice like that, especially without appropriately tagging the images so that people don't have to engage with that? They may be motivated by the best of intentions, but as long as they are engaging in that sort of casual, continual terror tourism, they're ... not helping.

There was a great article about this back during Ferguson that really flipped a switch in my head about the subject, where it basically said this is just another way that dominant cultures, Americans especially, seem to treat the bodies of people they view as Other as theirs to consume. There are ways to talk about whatever is going on which do not require people to utilize the bodies and blood of the dead as tools of persuasion (or emotional bludgeoning, tbh), as symbols to show how Righteous we are by "not looking away," and at the cost of those who have been or are more directly affected by the images.

Doing that sort of thing isn't a good idea in the first place, and you're not wrong to ask anybody to tag anything, or to disengage from those people if they find themselves unwilling or unable to tag that content so that you can care for your own mental health.

#gore mention

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chronicallycouchbound · 10 months

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Intelligence Doesn't Equal Morality

Intellect is rooted in ableist systems and stupidity and intelligence are pointless social constructs that don't relate to morals or character.

I try to be a pretty good person, I fight for human rights, I regularly engage in mutual aid, and I care for my community. I try to do the right thing and support causes I care about and make positive changes in the world.

But I also am not very smart. I have several neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as cognitive disabilities. I can’t do simple, basic math, it’s hard for me to remember facts or algorithms, I rely entirely on spellcheck and speech-to-text to write, I failed many classes in high school and I barely passed with a low GPA, I had low pSAT scores and I never took the SATs. I moved around a lot all through school starting in third grade, and I missed a lot of basic fundamentals in learning (like how to do division and multiplication) so when I went to a different school they had already passed it and expected me to know. After my TBI, I could barely read AFTER I was cleared from my “concussion” symptoms because letters and words would flip around and I’d get headaches. Which still happens sometimes.

A lot of people see me as smart because I've learned a lot of academic language and can formulate thoughts into cohesive posts. But I lack a lot of necessary skills and rely on my caretakers to assist me. Things like budgeting and planning are extremely difficult for me. If I need to do simple addition or subtraction, even with a calculator, I quickly get confused and struggle. I forget basic information about myself all the time, let alone other subjects. I'm talking, has to check my ID for my birthday type confused. Doesn't know my name or address or what year it is confused. It happens daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Being able to type out posts like this often takes weeks and many adaptive tools to get there. Focusing is extremely difficult on many fronts, severe chronic pain, ADHD, dissociation, fatigue, migraines, and TBI, are just some of the contributing factors. I struggle daily with many things because of my lack of intellect.

I’m also privileged in the fact that I had some access to education as a homeless youth, that I had some supports in place to help me (towards the end of school), that I was somewhat able-bodied at the time and could walk or bike to and from school when the school system didn’t provide transportation. I was fortunate to have a chance to succeed, and I’m proud that I graduated high school because it was a difficult task for me, and others often aren’t offered that chance or get accommodations. I almost didn’t and I dropped out many times before graduation. I passed on sheer luck and what little privileges I had.

That all being said, me being stupid (reclaiming it here) doesn't make me a bad person. I don't hurt people because I can't do math. I may mess up things or get confused but it doesn't make me want to harm others.

We often (wrongfully) equate morals with intellect. Being ‘stupid’, ‘dumb’, or an ‘idiot’ doesn’t automatically make someone a bad person. Plenty of evil, awful, and abusive people are extremely intelligent.

I see this most notably with people advocating for IQ tests to be able to vote. Often from left-leaning people, in hopes it'll make the right (that they view as unintelligent), unable to vote. The reality is, it just hurts some of our most vulnerable members of the community while not actively doing anything to restrict some of the most dangerous members of our community-- those who know what they're doing to harm others and deliberately doing so. My voice matters, and I speak up against injustice and participate in dismantling oppressive systems. Taking away my right to vote won't make the right stop oppressing minorities (which also puts a lot of faith into the two-party voting system, which is a post for another day).

Additionally, legislative measures that discriminate against intellectually disabled people such as IQ tests for voting are also rooted in racism and classism.

Yes, education can be a vital tool when it comes to addressing discrimination and creating safer communities. But the kind of education that is measured with an IQ test (or any test) isn't the same. Building compassion and caring for others can (and should) happen at any IQ level. We can all practice this, we can all participate.

It harms our communities and stagnates our progress when we equate intelligence with high morals.

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earlgraytay · 2 years

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I keep seeing discourse on my dash about whether or not we should be teaching ~challenging~/emotionally rough books in elementary and middle school, and I think there's a very important point that all of this discourse is eliding.

What counts as "too rough/traumatizing" heavily depends on the kid.

Two kids in the same class, from the same background, at the same developmental and reading level, might have wildly different reactions to a book. To take an example that's less likely to generate insufferable discourse than anything dealing with ~marginalization~:

Say you have two kids in the same class. One kid is a sensitive, sweet soul who loves dogs more than anything in the world. The other kid just lost their dog, is still grieving, and needs some catharsis.

Your class is supposed to read Old Yeller, or some other kids' book about The Death Of A Dog.

For the first kid, that book is likely to mess them up a little. It might seem like brutality for the sake of brutality. They might not fully understand the concept of death yet, or they may not be ready to grapple with the idea that dogs can die. It might be something they need to read, even if it'd mess them up- but it might also just hurt without any real benefit.

For the second kid... whether they're ready to read that book would heavily depend on how they're grieving and whether they're ready to think about a dog dying. It might trigger them and make them feel worse. But it might actually be helpful for them and make them feel less alone. Other kids have had to deal with their dogs dying and have lived through it. It might give them emotional tools they need to get through this.

But unless you know these kids really well and have the chance to tailor how you teach the book to them? You're likely to screw both of them up without any real benefit.

If they have to fill out fifty million worksheets about What The Dog Dying Means In Old Yeller, they're going to have to think about something they're not ready to think about over and over again. They're not likely to learn whatever you're trying to teach them about death or empathy or tragedy- they're just going to remember that English class was about depressing books about dogs dying and remember how much it hurt to get through. And they're going to be put off reading anything you might read in English class, because it's just going to hurt, right?

The one-size-fits-all model of education most schools are being forced to adopt means that we can't mold what kids read around what they need and are ready to hear; we have to make every kid read the same thing, at the same pace, with the same worksheets.

You can't decide, 'hey, this kid might not be ready for this particular book, here's a book that hits some of the same thematic notes but is less graphic'.

You can't take the time to make sure that a student who's reading a book that might be rough for them is okay, give them time to decompress and debrief, or let them process what they're having to deal with. You can't let them take a break from the book after they hit a point that is graphic or triggering. You can't let them sit with their feelings about it.

You can't take the time to make sure that the marginalized students in the class are okay after reading a book about oppression that affected people like them, or take the time to make sure that their non-marginalized classmates who said boneheaded things about the book know why what they said wasn't okay without publically yelling at them.

Hell, you can't even choose books based around what your students would be interested in and want to read. You have to make a lesson plan to teach like 50 students; you don't have time to pick things based around their individual likes and dislikes.

Nope. It's just on to the next book, the next worksheet, the next test.

Teachers are forced to take on classes that are way too big for any one person to manage, teach emotionally hefty books without giving kids time to process what they've learnt, and teach to tests instead of giving kids time to empathize and understand.

The problem is not specific books. The problem is not privileged people's fragility. The problem is not even individual teachers. The problem is a systemic problem with how American schools teach literature.

Until we fix the system? Yeah, plenty of kids are gonna get fucked up from reading Lord of the Flies or Where the Red Fern Grows when they're not ready to tackle it. Because their teachers do not have the time or spoons to gauge whether they're ready, and do not have the luxury of letting their students deal with things at their own pace.

#general malarkey #tumblr malarkey #my fucking industry #or well something adjacent to it #kidlit #teaching #education #i keep getting mad at posts like this because EVERYONE IS WRONG #LITCHRALLY EVERYONE

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 11 months

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The Writer's Guide to Mastering Dialogue

You've heard it a thousand times—show, don't tell. One of the most effective ways to do this in your writing is through dialogue. Dialogue helps bring your story and characters to life, propels the action forward, and engages readers. But crafting realistic, compelling dialogue is an art form that takes practice. Don't worry, Rin's got you covered. In this guide, you'll discover techniques for writing dialogue that sparkles. You'll learn how to make conversations sound natural, differentiate character voices, convey subtext and emotion, and use dialog for exposition. By the end, you'll be writing dialogue with confidence and watching your characters come to life on the page. So grab a cup of coffee or mocha (my favorite), settle in, and let's chat about the art of conversation.

Why Dialogue Matters in Your Novel

Dialogue is one of the most powerful tools in a writer's arsenal. It brings your story to life and creates realistic characters that readers can connect with. If you want to master the art of fiction writing, you need to know how to write compelling dialogue.

Dialogue reveals character and moves the story forward. Through dialogue, readers get a sense of your characters' personalities, backgrounds, and motivations. It's a chance to show, not tell, what your characters are like. Dialogue also propels the action and builds suspense, as characters chat about the events unfolding in the story.

There are a few keys to crafting believable and engaging dialog:

•Make it sound natural. Listen to real conversations for inspiration. Dialogue should flow and feel spontaneous, not stiff or forced. Use contractions, interruptions, and imperfect speech.

•Give each character a unique voice. The way people speak depends a lot on their background, education level, profession, and personality. Capture the subtleties of different speaking styles to bring your characters to life.

•Use dialogue tags and actions. Adding "he said/she said" and descriptions of characters' actions and expressions during conversations helps readers keep track of who's talking and provides context. Use a variety of tags like asked, exclaimed, and murmured.

•Move the conversation along. Keep dialog concise and avoid unnecessary filler words. Get to the point so readers stay interested in what's being said. Dialogue should always move the story forward.

•Show tension and conflict. Interesting conversations often involve disagreement, sarcasm, arguing, or questioning. Create tension through dialogue to keep readers engaged.

With the right techniques, you can make dialogue a pivotal part of your story. So listen, observe, and practice the art of great conversation - your readers will thank you!

Developing Distinctive Character Voices Through Dialogue

To develop distinctive voices for your characters, focus on how they speak. Dialogue is one of the best ways to bring your characters to life and propel your story forward.

Pay attention to your characters’ backgrounds, experiences, education levels, and attitudes. All of these factors influence how people talk in real life, so apply that to your characters. Maybe your wise-cracking character uses a lot of humor and sarcasm, while your shy character speaks hesitantly in short sentences.

Listen for speech patterns, accents, and catchphrases in real conversations and note them for inspiration. Capture the rhythm and flow of natural dialogue.

Give each character their own vocabulary based on their interests, jobs, and lifestyles. The tech geek’s dialogue will differ from the history professor’s.

Establish characters’ voices from their first lines of dialog. Look for a memorable way for them to express themselves. The impatient character may frequently use phrases like “spit it out already!” while the pessimist’s go-to is “what could possibly go wrong?”

Use dialog to reveal aspects of characters’ personalities and backgrounds without telling readers directly. Show, don’t tell. For example, a character who says “please” and “thank you” in every sentence likely has a polite and courteous nature.

Read dialogue aloud to make sure it sounds natural. Get friends or family members to read different characters’ lines. If anything sounds off, rework it.

With practice, crafting distinct voices for your characters through dialog will become second nature. Your characters' voices, conveyed through the words they say and the way they say them, will make your story come alive for readers. So take the time to get to know your characters by how they speak. Their voices are worth developing.

Using Dialogue to Reveal Character

Reveal Character Through Dialogue

Dialog is one of the best ways to reveal details about your characters and show their personalities. Carefully crafted conversations can expose a character's background, values, education level, and more without telling the reader outright.

As your characters talk, think about what kinds of words and phrases they would use based on who they are. An older British gentleman will speak very differently than a teenage skateboarder from California. Listen to people with similar backgrounds and life experiences to your characters for inspiration.

Also consider:

The rhythm and cadence of their speech. Do they speak quickly or slowly? Formally or casually?

Their vocabulary. Does your character use complex words and jargon or simpler language?

Grammar and pronunciation. Does your character follow the rules or have their own way of speaking?

For example, here's a short exchange that shows the contrast between two characters:

Jenny (teenage skateboarder): "Hey, you gonna drop in on the half pipe today or just pose by the ramp again?"

Mr. Edwards (older British gentleman): "I'm afraid vert skating is a young man's game, my dear. I'm quite content to watch you whippersnappers from the sidelines."

Even from this brief conversation, you get a sense of each character's age, background, and attitude without the author explicitly telling you. Mastering the art of subtext in dialog will make your stories come alive and allow readers to discover the depth in your characters for themselves.

Driving the Plot Forward With Meaningful Dialogue

To keep your readers engaged, your dialog needs to propel the story forward. Meaningful exchanges between characters should reveal information, create conflict, and raise the stakes.

Share Relevant Details

Use dialogue as an opportunity to share important details about the characters, their relationships, backstories, and the world they inhabit. For example:

“Did you hear they’re raising tuition again next semester?” Jenny asked.

“Ugh, not again,” Mark groaned. “How are we supposed to afford another five percent?”

This exchange informs the reader that Jenny and Mark are college students struggling with the costs. Look for natural ways to slip in context through dialog without sounding forced.

Create Conflict

Interesting stories thrive on tension, disagreement, and clashing perspectives. Have your characters bicker, argue, and challenge each other. For example:

“You never listen to me!” Alice shouted. “You always have to be right.”

“I’m not trying to be right,” Brian retorted. “I’m trying to protect you, but you’re too stubborn to see that.”

The quarrel fuels the underlying conflict in their relationship and keeps readers wondering how they’ll resolve their differences.

Raise the Stakes

Use meaningful dialog at key moments to increase the urgency, suspense or importance of what’s happening in the story. For example:

“The test results came back—it’s not good news,” the doctor said grimly.

Not only does this distressing announcement raise the stakes for the character’s health issue but it also creates a cliffhanger, leaving the reader wondering about the diagnosis and anxiously awaiting more details.

Meaningful dialog is essential for crafting an engaging story. Use it to inform readers, create conflict between characters, raise the stakes, and propel the plot toward a climax. With practice, writing authentic dialog will become second nature.

Creating Tension and Conflict Through Dialogue

To keep readers engaged, effective dialog should create tension and conflict between characters. As in real life, the conversations in your story should have stakes and push characters outside their comfort zone.

Show underlying tensions

Have characters disagree and argue to reveal underlying tensions. For example:

“You never listen to me. It’s always about what you want.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. I’ve sacrificed a lot for this family.”

This type of emotionally-charged exchange shows the couple has deeper issues to work through regarding resentment and lack of appreciation.

Create awkward situations

Put characters in awkward situations through dialog to ramp up the tension. For example:

“How’s the job search going?”

“Um, still looking. The market’s tough right now.”

“Really? I heard your company is hiring. I put in a good word for you with some people I know there.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

The second character is now in the difficult position of admitting the job search isn’t going well and they don’t actually have any leads. This cringeworthy moment translates the tension to readers.

Issue challenges and ultimatums

Have characters challenge each other by issuing warnings, demands or ultimatums, for example:

“If you walk out that door, we’re through. I mean it this time.”

“Don’t threaten me. You need me more than I need you.”

Throwing down the gauntlet in this way forces characters to back up their words with actions, which heightens the tension and conflict. Readers will keep reading to see who comes out on top!

Using dialog that highlights tension, creates awkwardness, and issues challenges is a great way to craft page-turning scenes that keep readers on the edge of their seats. Mastering the art of writing gripping dialogue is key to writing a story that resonates.

Avoiding Common Dialogue Mistakes

One of the biggest mistakes new writers make is crafting unrealistic or clichéd dialog. Your characters’ conversations should flow naturally and sound believable to readers. Avoid these common dialog doners:

Repeating Characters' Names

In real life, we rarely use someone's name in every sentence when talking to them. Only use a character's name when beginning a new exchange or for emphasis. Repeating names too often makes the dialog sound unnatural.

Overusing Exposition

Don't have characters explain things solely for the reader's benefit. Only include exposition that makes sense for the characters to actually say to each other. Find other creative ways to convey important backstory or worldbuilding details.

Forgetting Emotion

Dialog without emotional cues like facial expressions and body language can seem flat. Use emotive verbs and adverbs to show how the lines are delivered. For example, "she exclaimed" or "he muttered angrily." Also describe characters' physical reactions and behaviors to further bring the scene to life for readers.

Talking in Complete Sentences

Real conversations are often choppy, filled with interruptions, tangents, and imperfect grammar. Vary your sentence structure and length. Use fragments, run-ons, and breaks when appropriate. Not all dialog needs to be in perfectly punctuated full sentences.

Clichéd Phrases

Certain overused phrases like "it's quiet...too quiet" or "we've got company!" indicate lazy or clichéd writing. Come up with original ways for your characters to express themselves that fit with their unique personalities and situation. Avoid reusing trite or familiar sayings.

With practice, writing natural-sounding dialog will become second nature. Pay close attention to how real people speak, and aim to replicate the flow and cadence in your writing. Follow these tips, and your characters' conversations will truly come alive on the page!

Formatting Dialogue Correctly

When writing dialog, formatting it correctly is key to making it clear and compelling for readers. Here are some tips for formatting your dialogue effectively:

Use quotation marks

Place all dialogue between double quotation marks (“”). This indicates the character is speaking. For example:

“Hello,” she said. “How are you today?”

Start a new paragraph for each new speaker

Having each character's dialog on its own line makes it easy to follow who's talking. For example:

“Did you finish your homework?” Mom asked.

“I'm almost done,” I replied. “Just have some math problems left.”

Describe the speech

Use speech tags like "said", "asked", "replied" to indicate how the dialog was delivered. For example:

“I don't want to go to bed yet,” the little girl whined.

Punctuate properly

Place punctuation such as periods, commas, question marks, etc. within the quotation marks. For example:

“Where are you going?” she asked.

I said, “To the store. Do you need anything?”

Use beats

"Beats" are actions or descriptions that replace the "he/she said" tags. They make dialog more engaging and help set the scene. For example:

"I'm tired." John yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Then go to sleep." Mary folded her arms, annoyance in her tone.

Avoid over-tagging

Don't tag every single line of dialog with "said" or the character's name. Let context and formatting do some of the work for you. For example:

"Did you talk to Mom today?"

"Yeah, she called this morning."

"What did she say?"

"That she'd be home in time for dinner."

Following these guidelines will make your dialogue clear, compelling, and help bring your story to life. Readers will appreciate dialog that flows naturally and is easy to follow.

Using Dialogue Tags Effectively

To write effective dialog, you need to master the use of dialog tags. Dialog tags are the parts of speech that indicate who is speaking, such as “he said” or “she asked”. When used properly, dialog tags can enhance your story without distracting the reader.

Choose tags that match the tone

Pick dialog tags that match the emotional tone of the dialog. For example, use “he whispered” for hushed speech or “she shouted” for loud, angry speech. Avoid reusing the same generic tags like “he said/she said” repeatedly, but don't get too creative either. Stick with simple verbs that imply the manner of speech.

Use action tags

Action tags describe a character's physical actions or expressions while speaking. For example, "“I’m not going,” he shook his head.” or ““What a day!” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed.” Action tags bring dialog to life and help the reader visualize the scene. They also give you an opportunity to reveal character details.

Drop the tag when implied

Once two characters establish a back-and-forth dialog, you can often drop the dialog tags altogether. As long as it's clear who is speaking, the tags become unnecessary. For example:

“Did you finish your homework?” Mom asked.

“Most of it,” I said.

“Most of it? What didn’t you finish?”

“Just some math problems. I’ll do them after dinner.”

“You’d better. I’m checking it tonight.”

After the first two lines, the reader understands that Mom and I are the speakers, so the remaining dialog does not need tags. Dropping implied tags creates a snappier feel and prevents repetitive, unnecessary tags.

Using a mix of well-placed dialog tags, action tags, and implied dialog, you can craft seamless conversations between characters that flow naturally, without distraction. Keep practicing and listening to real-world conversations for inspiration. With time, writing compelling dialog will become second nature.

FAQs About Writing Dialogue

When writing dialogue, questions inevitably come up. Here are some of the most frequently asked questions about crafting realistic and compelling dialogue.

Do I use quotation marks or italics?

In fiction writing, use quotation marks (“”) to denote direct speech. Only use italics for thoughts or emphasis. Quotation marks allow the reader to easily distinguish between dialog and narration.

How do I avoid “he said, she said”?

To prevent repetitive “he said/she said” tags, use action tags that describe the speaker's actions or expressions. For example:

“We should get out of here,” he whispered, glancing around nervously.

She slammed her fist on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You can also drop the dialog tag altogether if the speaker is clearly identified through context or action. The dialog itself and how you structure the conversation can imply the tone.

How do I make dialogue sound natural?

Pay attention to the cadence and rhythm of actual conversations. Dialog should:

Sound like natural speech, not formal writing. Contractions are okay!

Have an easy back-and-forth flow. Keep responses concise and avoid monologs.

Capture unique speech patterns based on a character's background and personality.

Include interruptions, changes in subject, and imperfect grammar. We don't speak perfectly in real life!

What are the rules for punctuating dialog?

Use a comma between the dialogue tag and the dialog: “Hello,” she said.

If the dialog tag comes before the dialog, end it with a comma: She said, “Hello.”

If the dialogue is interrupted by a dialog tag, use commas to separate it from the tag: “Hello,” she said, “how are you?”

Use a period to end a sentence of dialog: “Hello.”

Use a question mark for a question: “How are you?” she asked.

Use an exclamation point for excitement or emphasis: “Wow!” he exclaimed.

Start a new paragraph each time the speaker changes.

Following these tips will have you crafting dialog like a pro in no time. Let me know if you have any other questions!

Additional Tips For Writing Dialogue

Keep it concise

When writing dialog, less is more. Keep exchanges brief and avoid long speeches. Readers will get bored quickly if characters drone on and on. Focus on using just enough dialog to convey key information or advance the scene.

Use natural language

Write dialog like people really speak. Use casual language, contractions, slang, and imperfect grammar. Drop words like “um”, “like”, and “you know” into conversations to make them sound authentic. Read your dialog aloud to ensure it flows naturally. If it sounds stilted or awkward when spoken, it will come across that way to readers as well.

Share emotions

Dialog should reveal characters’ emotions and attitudes. Have characters express feelings like excitement, frustration, fear or affection through their word choice, tone, and body language. For example, a character who sighs, rolls their eyes or speaks in a sarcastic tone conveys a very different emotion than one who smiles, makes eye contact and speaks enthusiastically.

Keep it relevant

All dialog should serve a purpose, whether to reveal something about a character, advance the plot or set a mood. Avoid “empty” exchanges that fill space but add no value. If a conversation seems pointless or dull, cut or rewrite it.

Use action and description

Don't rely solely on dialog to carry a scene. Include action and descriptions to give readers a more complete picture. For example:

"Where were you?" Anna asked.

Mark sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I got stuck at work. I'm really sorry."

The description of Mark's actions and appearance helps the reader understand his emotional state and see the full context of the conversation.

Leave room for interpretation

Don't have characters over-explain or outright state their feelings and motivations. Leave some details to the reader's imagination. For example, instead of:

"I'm angry that you lied to me," Amy said angrily.

Try:

Amy folded her arms and glared at him. "You lied to me."

The emotional context is clear without having to explicitly state Amy's anger. Subtlety and nuance in dialog make for a more engaging read.

Conclusion

So there you have it, the keys to mastering dialogue/dialog in your writing. I hope my extensive research was enough information for you all. Focus on listening to the voices around you, develop unique voices for your characters, keep your exchanges tight and impactful. Remember, dialog should always move the story forward, not just fill space on the page. With practice, writing compelling dialog can become second nature. Now go eavesdrop on conversations, study your favorite books and shows, and get to work crafting those conversations. Your characters and readers will thank you for it. Keep at it and before you know it, you'll be writing dialog with the best of them!

(Keep in mind I used both dialog and dialogue just in case there's a few who get annoyed with that.)

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alienwithaguitar · 2 months

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Shelby said a lot during her stream, teetering from honorable to downright strange, and I want to address some of the issues. Before I say anything, I am still supportive of Shelby’s story, but this stream revealed a lot to me. I especially push Shelby supporters to read this, as this stream pushed MANY people I know to a neutral stance.

Shelby claimed having a depressive disorder just involved "feeling depressed", which is a harmful misconception that minimizes our struggles. Depression is more than feeling sad, and is categorized as being "different from regular mood changes and feelings about everyday life." It can involve constant hopelessness, angry outbursts, loss of motivation in most activities, and can lead to fluctuating weights, suicidal ideations, and self-sabotaging. To say "we all feel a little depressed sometimes" is to dismiss the lifelong struggles people with depression go through.

Shelby also implies that people with mental illness cannot change, and that recovery is not possible if your depression has hurt others. Not only is that an incredibly harmful idea to spread, it's blatantly incorrect. Just as habits and thoughts are trained throughout your life, they can also be untrained. There is genuine psychological basis in this, and to say that recovery is impossible is scientifically false. Personalities shift our entire lives, and changes in our physical and mental environments help us train new habits. This is part of the reason we try forming better schedules in new environments, and why a consistently stressful environment can bloom negative habits.

People don't chose to have mental illness, and if you're never taught to handle it, it can be extremely easy to hurt others. The most powerful tool to recovery is believing you can be better, and Shelby telling people to not even try is just enabling self-destructive people to hurt others for the rest of their lives. Change is a long process, but it's absolutely possible- Something as simple as a disruption in your life, a wake up call, and a drive to be a better person are the first steps to kickstarting change.

Shelby’s claims are very strange considering the rest of the stream. Earlier, she went on a rant about content creator’s influence on teenagers. She acknowledged teenagers are impressionable, and that it’s important to take care of those looking up to you. She recognized her fanbase was mainly teenagers, many of whom struggle from mental illness. It feels backwards to emphasize being a good role model before telling thousands of kids that their mental illness makes them a bad person. Her statement was about treating people with kindness no matter what, but she couldn’t keep that energy for people with depression.

Shelby herself was able to find help in therapy, so to deny that others should seek help feels selfish. She also confirmed on stream that she's seen the informative resources people sent her, and that she has ignored them. I can excuse the stereotyping if she's willing to be educated, but she's made it clear she believes she’s right. This is one thing I cannot defend, and I can't forgive her for slandering myself and thousands of struggling teens’ progress to their faces.

One final thing Shelby mentioned was that we should wait for evidence, and it's alright to feel doubtful. I want to revisit her statement with the current evidence we have, that I will take with a grain of salt by her own request. With the proof we have, nothing that Shelby claims comes across as abusive outside of the biting.

Shelby said she would get locked in his house at times. UK houses need a key to unlock the inside, and Wilbur likely only had one. While at his house, Shelby had access to her phone, and there were ways she could communicate with him or call for help if this was a problem. We have no evidence to claim that he trapped her. Shelby also stated her family never met Wilbur, because she had to travel to meet him. It wouldn't be unreasonable to stay in his house for an extended amount of time, and that was entirely her choice. She certainly might have felt neglected, but to claim that it was entrapment is baseless.

Wilbur was also busy with tours, absent nearly 200 days of the year. Feeling lonely makes sense, but raising that as abusive and holding it against him is ridiculous. As a famous musician, Wilbur has obligations that he legally can't drop. This was something she needed to be aware of when pursuing a relationship with him. She's allowed to wish things were different, but genuinely expecting him to abandon his lifelong passion is more than a little strange. This doesn't detract from her feelings, but to hold his legal obligations over his head when she should’ve known he'd be busy is unreasonable.

Shelby has also made a point of publicly shaming his hygiene. The inability to care for yourself and your space is a common symptom of depression. It was kind of her to clean, but her words imply she thinks he's just lazy. She explicitly notes that Wilbur didn’t expect her to clean, but that he waited for her to clean. This is weird to specify, as people with depression typically don't make plans to clean for long periods of time. She likely just assumed his inaction was a sign for her to do it, rather than something he struggled with and had no plans to do anyway. I don't think she was right for shaming his depressive habits, and I don't think he was right for dismissing her help. However, the comments he made about her cleaning very strongly imply that he never had plans to clean either way. This just reads as a choice to help out, not expectation or pressure.

Based on the evidence we have now, the points Shelby made just come across as her dating a mentally ill man and not being prepared for the challenges that come with that. Her family never met him, and he was very busy, so there wasn’t much outside opinion she could get. It's reasonable for her to feel neglected, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was intentional harm. It's important for both parties to get help, to communicate what happened and talk about their feelings. Wilbur stated he was committed to talking with her and addressing her concerns, while Shelby blocked him and refused to communicate, despite telling him she wanted to remain friends. All she's done since is reject his apology (even though he made a statement, not an apology, for legal reasons) and ignore his requests to speak. This avoidance to communicate is likely why the lines of consent and expectation were blurred in their relationship, as they've both expressed an inability to communicate.

This was not written to discredit Shelby's experience, I do believe she has trauma. However, you can absolutely be traumatized by relationships that weren't necessarily abusive. I've experienced years of PTSD from completely fabricated nightmares, and have trauma from repeated hallucinations of my ex. She’s not lying about her feelings- But between the contradictions, refusing to talk with Wilbur about an apology, and the insistence to "communicate” despite the fact that she blocked him, I can't support Shelby's actions.

I will always fight to uplift victims, and I am sympathetic of her story, but I can't defend someone who makes no effort to communicate or educate herself before speaking. Until either of them presents something that is beyond "he said, she said" I will remain neutral. I think they both deserve a chance to change and talk about this privately, and I will be waiting for a better response in the mean time. There was clearly miscommunication, and this was brought to us prematurely (shown by her contradicting statements.) I urge you all to look at the evidence and hopefully come to a similar conclusion. You can feel for someone's experiences and sympathize with their mental state without endorsing them. Stay safe, be kind, and don't jump to any conclusions. 🤍

#wilbur #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #not a wilbur defense post #but its still important to consider #shelby #shubble #shelby shubble #wilbur support squad #shubble support squad #shelby support squad

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Orgasm Control

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

So, we have to start with making a distinction here. Orgasm control is not edge play. Edge play can involve orgasm control, but these are two totally different things and honestly on very VERY different ends of the kink spectrum. We're going to dive into Edge Play with Lucien. The reason these two kinks are so commonly confused is due to a term called "edging," and we will discuss that in a second.

Orgasm control is exactly what it sounds like. It is the act of prolonging or disrupting your partner's or your own orgasm. It can be used in partner play or solo play. The appeal to orgasm control comes with the antipation it brings, and the control it allows the dominating party to feel. The constant build and prolonged need for release can cause more intense orgasms, heightened nerve sensitivity, and can help intensify the bond between you and your partner.

Orgasm control is also a very good way to dip your toes into the art of Submission or Domination. It is an easy form of play with little no effect on the mind, large reward, and requires no special tools or techniques. One good way to see if you would be into orgasm control is to work it into solo play through edging.

Edging is the act of bringing yourself or a partner near the beginning of that peak of orgasm before backing away over and over until the big o finally happens. To properly edge, you should be bringing yourself or your partner to that state where the coil is starting to wind and wind, but that desperate need to tip over the edge has not fully set in.

Fair warning with self orgasm control or partner play, you need to know each other and your bodies so well for this form of play. It can quickly become frustrating for the receiving party. Be kind and cautious. You want to associate this with sexy fun, not anger 💕

💕Peep the Valentines Day Masterlist here💕

As always, NSFW below cut

Ruhn x reader

Warnings - overstimulation, oral f receiving, unprotected sex

You were shaking below Ruhn, a soft cry leaving your mouth as he pulled off of you again and moved to kiss the inside of your thigh. “Ruhn, please,” you couldn't take it anymore. The need to orgasm, to scream his name had set in over an hour ago, and he kept denying you over and over again. He'd let you approach that high 7 times already just for him to rip it away.

“Don't want this to be over,” the response was muffled into your thigh. He sighed happily, looking up at you with soft eyes. “We could stay like this forever, you know?” You almost pushed him away, wiggling up. “Nah uh, princess. You promised you would be all mine tonight and it was whatever I wanted.”

“I didn't think-”

“I want to drown in you,” a teasing lick just brushed your nerves, sending your head back into the pillows as a drawn-out whine left your lips. “Is that really so much to ask?”

That teasing lick became long ones, circling your clit before dipping to your entrance. He was savoring you, taking his time with you like he needed to memorize the scent, the taste, each noise. You moved your hands to his hair, threading your fingers into those soft dark locks and pulling.

Ruhn went back to your clit, moaning as he did, and locked his mouth on. He began gently sucking, as he licked. The occasional contrast of the metal piercing versus his soft lips keeping your senses high.

He moaned against you again as you tugged his hair, silently begging for more. He ran a finger through your folds, pushing it slowly into you. Is that what you needed, baby? Need me to fill you up? His voice in your mind pushed you into over stimulation, causing you to wiggle and whine.

Cool shadows began roaming your body, leaving feather like kisses along every inch of skin. At the same time, his finger began to move in time with his tongue, curling and gently touching that soft spongy wall inside of you.

Every nerve was singing, begging for release, and you felt yourself relaxing, clenching his finger as moans began leaving you shamelessly.

That edge was so close, begging for you to come to her, begging for you to come and play.

And then it all stopped. Tears began to fall as he kissed up your body and then kissed each one away. “Gonna let you cum. I swear.” His cock was resting at your core, waiting to enter you, to slide home.

Ruhn kissed your lips gently and then sat up. He took a single leg, bringing it over his shoulder to open you wide for him. It was as if Luna herself blessed you when his cock slid in, inch by tantalizing inch.

“Ruhn,” his name was a breathless prayer as your back arched.

“Fuck, I know baby.”

He took you slowly, savoring every moment until even he had enough. Shadows wrapped your wrists, pulling your hands above your head. Then he began.

Ruhn shifted his hips and pounded into you, hit that spot only he had ever found over and over. Those tattooed hands squeezed the thigh he had leaning against him as he kissed and nipped at your calf and ankle.

You on fire. That coil tightens more and more with each rhythmic thrust. The over stimulation, the need to cum, the tingling setting in, it all became so much. Too much. You didn't realize you were crying until a loving stroke came down the bond.

Ruhn leaned forward, bringing your leg with him, and wiped those tears, pace slowing. “Y/n, what's wrong, baby?” His falter in movement had your legs beginning to shake as thar climb paused once again, a soft cry of despair leaving your swollen plush lips, and Ruhn smirking as he realized three things.

He had you so desperate to cum, you would do whatever he wanted at this point

You were the most stunning creature when you were fucked out

You were about to beg. Beg for his cock, his fingers, anything.

Ruhn grabbed your other leg, sinking in further. He was so deep inside you, you could have sworn new places, new nerves, were being woken for the first time. “Ruhn, please. I need it, please. Please make me cum?”

He kissed you deeply. “So pretty when you beg.” He began again, hands finding your tits and squeezing as he focused on both of you. Your body began to sing for him, his name a constant melody. It was no longer a spring coiling in your stomach but a rope, dangling you from a cliff refusing to let go.

His brow was knit, jaw opened as he groaned, whispering praise with each movement, moaning each time you tightened around him. “‘M close, y/n. Need you to fall with me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, tears falling again. His hand came to your abused clit, stroking her gently in time with his hips. “Cum,” the command held little power. He was breathless, eyes rolling back already at the feeling of you squeezing him like a vice.

But the command was what finally cut that rope, allowing you to fall from that ledge, tumbling through the air in a glorious free fall. Your vision went white as you screamed his name, walls milking him for every drop as he fell off soon after you.

It was a long free fall that Ruhn worked you through, whispered and praised you through.

And when it finally ended, it was as if your body landed in a pool of water, comforting relief spreading to every inch and limb as your mind was allowed to leave that desperate place. You were limp in his arms, smiling and panting in time with him.

“Bitch as much as you want,” Ruhn's nose nudged yours, forcing you to allow him to steal a kiss. “But it's always worth it.” You could only nod. Body and voice spend. “Come on, gorgeous. Let's get you cleaned up.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

#ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #crescent city x reader #cc x reader #ruhn crescent city #ruhn danaan #ruhn danaan crown prince of the valbaran fae #ruhn x you #ruhn x y/n #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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writing-relatedactivities · 6 months

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A Very Ask A Manager Thanksgiving

So I love advice blogs (I maintain that comment sections on advice blogs are the best free tool for writers to explore different viewpoints, which really enriches your characterization), and for a few years now, I have had this idea that I want to do a do an Ask A Manager themed dinner, purely to delight myself. Meant to do it as a cookout this summer, but timing never worked out, so I broached the idea of doing it for Thanksgiving. My partner, who is also a nerd and therefore very supportive of my advice blog love even though it is not one of their interests, was down, with their only condition being that I should still make my cider bread with maple butter.

The menu:

Appetizers

Chips with:

Guacamole in honor of Guacamole Bob, of "ordering extra guacamole is wasteful of member dues” fame. (This being on the menu may also have been a factor in Partner being willing to have our holiday take on an Ask A Manager theme, as I once took a community education course on grilling that taught me nothing about its ostensible subject matter but did teach me to make a bomb-ass guacamole. The secret is that your first step should be to pulverize an entire head of garlic into a paste in your mocajete.)

Three store bought salsas, where the trick is to "fold" the salsa to get the best flavor

A bottle of hot sauce so we can get fired after a coworker steals our spicy food

Main Course

"Duck club" sandwiches in honor of the secret office sex club where you get points for sex in different locations, and quacking is involved. (These were very decadent and if anyone's interested in a great duck recipe, I used the Duck with Lemon recipe from A Feast of Ice and Fire.)

Sides

Cheap-ass rolls that I definitely deliberately brought to upstage you, yes you, the person who signed up to bring Hawaiian rolls! It's definitely not an overreaction on your part to declare that "they can all take Santa and stick it up their ass!" You're definitely not getting fired for being wildly hostile! (These are actually homemade rolls, but I weighed "buy actually cheap rolls and be done" or "spend a couple hours adapting a corgi butt roll recipe to a human butt roll," and chose in favor of the pun.)

Dessert

Bribery cupcakes, from that time a letter writer brought some cupcakes over to chat with her neighbor, the son of the Chief of Police, about a disruptive noise issue in her workplace and some commenters decided this constituted bribing a public servant. (The recipe is in the comments on that link; I made the carrot cake version. However, I realized halfway through that I was somehow low on vanilla despite obsessively buying fancy vanilla extract every time I am in a spice shop, along with a bunch of other things I don't need because buying cool spices makes me feel like a wizard. Anyway, half of these had vanilla in the filling/icing, and the other half had cardamom extract.)

A birthday cake that somehow crosses boundaries by...being too fancy? Being paid for a staff person? Not involving the wife in the planning? Anyway, the real answer to the letter writer's question is, "Eh, I don't think it's a big deal" because different offices have different norms around birthdays and it's whatever, but sometimes a low-stakes office norms question hits just right and you get 630 comments of people debating The One True Way to Do Office Birthdays, and whether or not buying a cake means you're angling for an affair. (Okay, not all the comments are about that particular letter. Anyway, I picked up this fancy-ass cake at Marc Heu Patisserie, and appropriately enough, the guy ahead of me in line was picking up a cake for his boss.)

And of course, what Ask A Manager column would be complete without chocolate teapots?

Beverages

Mudslides, because "girls love chocolate." And magic tricks. And being played "You're So Vain" on the piano with a mournful stare. Partner and I are both notorious lightweights but I had been snacking all day as I cooked so I was mostly immune. Partner took one sip of this drink and immediately began loudly telling me how their one colleague doesn't sing enough to his Pre-K students, and "this classroom will do anything if you sing to them!" After dinner, they lay down on the floor and sang the Slippery Fish song.

The full spread:

#ask a manager #askamanager #alison green #thanksgiving #cooking #adventures in nerdery

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queenofapeacefuldawn · 4 months

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SPY × Family: Chapter 93 analysis

this is my first time doing something like this, and I'm no expert so please take my analysis with a grain of salt! all of this is my own theories, so you might disagree with me. please don't be mean, though (also, long post incoming!)

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 UNDER THE CUT

The chapter opens with the Eden kids getting the results of their marks, with Anya's...

overall rank shooting up, from 213th to 168th. Showing how she's slowly adjusting to the school and its pace of learning, despite being younger than everyone else (and, also, presumably doing extremely advanced things.... I remember seeing the pythagorean theorem on the board once in the anime)

Damian got highest in History (good job, buddy!), and Anya got second-highest in Classical Language (the one exam she genuinely studied hard for). But what I want to focus on is her expression:

Shock. She'd put up that front (that fake-face, if you will) in front of Becky, Damian, Emile and Ewen, pretending to be all cool and suave but when she sees her results, she's genuinely surprised to get good marks in Classical Language. And even her excited reaction. She was scared of disappointing Twilight (and maybe even Sigmund and Barbara) because she'd genuinely worked hard for this exam, tried to understand, and gave it her best attempt.

But, then, it all comes crashing down with her 24 points in math: but a win is a win!

Maybe this is Twilight's turning point in the fact that acquiring knowledge can be interesting, exciting, and not just a tool of survival? Twilight himself doesn't have a great relationship with studying, (see: his father scolding him as a child for not studying, later: his friends dying because he didn't know enough about the campaign they were going on... but Twilight's relationship with knowledge and its pursuit is a whole other post in itself).

Honestly, him realising that Anya is actually thriving in the setup where education is fun for her, opens up two new avenues:

Twilight himself trying to make learning fun for Anya (unlikely, he tried that before... it didn't work.)

Him leaning on Sigmund and Barbara to tutor Anya (this seems more likely- Endo is probably going to cement the Authens as recurring characters, so them being Anya's surrogate grandparents/neighbors/tutors would seem like a great way to do so!

And then...

My main focus is on the fact that he mumbles this (also his face. But that's irrelevant). Twilight may claim, "I don't understand children", but he's an extremely perceptive man. As much as I love to clown on him, he's highly skilled at picking up on cues of people's feelings. The few times he's failed are mostly due to Anya's shenanigans trying to hide her telepathy, mixed with his usual flavour of overthinking.

But the couple of things he knows about Anya are this:

She was probably raised in an environment where Classical Language was used.

She's not fond of talking about or remembering her past.

Which is why he didn't have the heart to fully sound out the question. In the case of Anya, this is an extremely delicate matter, and he doesn't want to upset her (or, in his words, "ruin Operation Strix.") The way he asked the question and it's portrayed made it feel like he'd been pondering on it for quite a while (which he has; since the beginning of the Cruise Arc), but more so usually. Most likely due to her high marks in the Classical Language tests (aka a dead language), and the fact that she got excellent marks in it, despite formally studying it for less than a year (at least, as far as he (and we) know.) He's been thinking of the possibility, and also thinking of a way to ask her. In the end, when he does ask her—

she lies.

and he lets her. (at least, that's my interpretation)

Obviously, he knows she's not ready to speak about it yet (though we know it's probably connected to her telepathy, so she's not ready to divulge that info).

Look, as much as I love talking about how clueless he is with his own feelings, in this scene, he was just... perceptive? I don't know if that's the right word. But he was trying to keep Anya happy, and bringing up this complex topic without ensuring proper care for her wouldn't be fair to her. And he knows that. So, he leaves it at, "Just forget about it, okay?"

This entire scene felt so... tense, and in itself felt like a fucking gut punch, so I don't know how I'll react to the reveal.)

And now, onto the main focus of the chapter:

him.

If I'm being honest, I thought Demetrius was, like, 16-19 (judging by his voice in the anime), and not... fucking twelve.

Honestly, that just makes his character all the more tragic: he's barely a teenager, and yet... he's going through this. From his awards ceremony, we can see that he got, what, 6 stellas? In addition to the eight he's gotten to be an Imperial Scholar, and if he performs this well in every exam... bro is literally hoarding the Stella supply of the school (sorry, bad joke).

But...

this panel comes up. It's definitely not Anya's telepathy malfunctioning, (heck, it works on Bond and even penguins). Honestly, I think, again, it could be one of two things:

He was experimented on, like Anya

He was trained, (most likely by Donovan), to keep his mind blank.

We're told that he and Donovan had an extremely close relationship:

This could be in support of both the theories: it could be Donovan checking up on his "experiment's" progress (a crude term to refer to him), or, it could have been him subconsciously training Demetrius to hide his thoughts, keep them safe. Anya's project is connected to Desmond's administration, and at the time she was "made", Demetrius would have been around 7 or 8. Old enough for him to figure out what he wanted to have been in life (ofc, that's different for everyone! It takes time, and 8 is an extremely young age to figure out what one wants to do). But, like, how Damian wants to be a politician, it's most likely that Demetrius, the prodigal, studious, first child, would have to follow the path of politics laid before him.

So it could have been Donovan teaching Demetrius to protect his sensitive thoughts from the "weapons" he himself was making: the test subject(s) of Anya's project (again, a crude term to refer to them). Donovan was putting a lot of faith into creating telepaths (most likely for covert work), and them having unwavering loyalty to his administration was not very likely.

And, even if Anya's project was the work of another administration or even country, there's no doubt that Donovan would want to keep his thoughts hidden from these kinds of spies: ones than can see into your very mind, especially if the world is at war: a physical battle or a war for information.

The first theory of Demetrius himself being a test subject is probably Not What Happened; so I think it's probably just Demetrius being trained to keep his thoughts hidden.

But then, we get some of his thoughts:

Which is a lot reminiscent of:

So, it's probable that Demetrius imbibed this from his dad.

It's honestly a bit scary to see how Donovan's "parenting" has affected him: for him, age 12, to be like this.

After this, the chapter ends lightheartedly: Anya trying to emulate Demetrius, and Loid Being Tired™️.

I'm mostly curious about Demetrius: I was so excited when he was finally revealed! But I hope we get to see more of his thoughts, soon. Especially more about his relationship with Damian. But, this chapter was fantastic!

(This was super fun to do- if i do posts like this for chapters as they come out, would you all like it? Again, I'm not an expert in psychology (or even analysis). It's just me and my silly lil thoughts. I hope you liked it!)

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family chapter 93 #loid forger #spy x family chapter 93 spoilers #agent twilight #twilight #anya forger #subject 007 #sigmund authen #barbara authen #donovan desmond #demetrius desmond #damian desmond

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