#Cognitive Categories

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Category

The philosophy of category examines the ways in which we classify and organize the vast array of objects, concepts, and experiences that constitute our reality. Categories are fundamental to human thought and communication, influencing how we perceive, understand, and interact with the world. This branch of philosophy explores the nature, structure, and implications of categorization, delving into questions about the basis of categories, their fluidity, and their impact on our cognitive processes.

Key Concepts in the Philosophy of Category

Ontological Categories:

Concept: Ontological categories refer to the most basic and universal kinds of entities that exist. These categories include things like objects, properties, events, and relations.

Implications: Understanding these categories helps philosophers and scientists make sense of the fundamental structure of reality.

Epistemological Categories:

Concept: These are categories related to knowledge and the ways we come to understand the world. They include concepts such as facts, theories, and beliefs.

Implications: This explores how our categorization of knowledge affects our understanding and epistemic practices.

Linguistic Categories:

Concept: These categories pertain to the structure of language and include parts of speech (nouns, verbs, adjectives), syntactic structures, and semantic roles.

Implications: Investigating linguistic categories reveals how language shapes and reflects our thinking and communication.

Cognitive Categories:

Concept: These involve the mental categories we use to make sense of our experiences. Examples include concepts like 'animal,' 'tool,' or 'emotion.'

Implications: Cognitive categories are essential for understanding how we process information and navigate the world.

Social and Cultural Categories:

Concept: These categories are constructed by societies and cultures and include classifications such as gender, race, and social status.

Implications: Social categories can influence identity, power dynamics, and social interactions.

Theories on the Philosophy of Category

Classical Theory:

Theory: This theory posits that categories have clear boundaries and can be defined by a set of necessary and sufficient conditions.

Criticism: Critics argue that many categories do not have strict boundaries and that our use of categories is often more flexible and context-dependent.

Prototype Theory:

Theory: Proposed by Eleanor Rosch, this theory suggests that categories are organized around typical or "prototypical" examples rather than strict definitions.

Implications: This theory accounts for the fluidity and variability of categories in everyday thinking.

Family Resemblance Theory:

Theory: Ludwig Wittgenstein introduced this concept, arguing that categories are defined by overlapping similarities rather than a fixed set of characteristics.

Implications: This approach emphasizes the relational and context-dependent nature of categories.

Conceptual Blending Theory:

Theory: This cognitive theory, developed by Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner, explores how categories can combine to form new concepts through mental blending processes.

Implications: It provides insights into creativity, innovation, and the dynamic nature of categorization.

Constructivist Theories:

Theory: These theories argue that categories are not discovered but constructed by individuals or societies based on their interactions with the world.

Implications: Constructivist theories highlight the role of human agency and social context in shaping categories.

Understanding the philosophy of category provides a foundational framework for exploring how we organize our knowledge and experiences, shedding light on the complexities and dynamics of human cognition and social structures.

[tchaikovskym]

Going to my cognition science lectures, and every time I'm more and more convinced that the professor might be in my tumblr bubble. The coincidences are getting a bit scary at this point.

[loki-zen]

so. thing.

while on the one hand i absolutely respect and get behind the reasoning for wanting to like encourage people to feel free to explore and experiment with their gender presentation, and it’s great if and when younger generations feel freer to think about that more and make decisions on it instead of being restricted by a category assigned at birth, etc…

on the other hand, ‘thinking about your gender presentation’ is literally a subcategory of ‘thinking about how you are perceived by other people’ and most teenagers & many other people do an unhealthy amount of that already.

not sure how to reconcile these.

[zapsoda]

intriguing how even during the period in which i knew i liked women but not that i was trans i never really related to or identified with sapphism/lesbianism. you would think i would and a lot of transmascs who are into women do but nope not me

[harmonic-psyche]

PBS Space Time published an excellent video describing the same kind of fuzzy boundaries between states of matter in the context of particle physics:

It's interesting to me how much people struggle to intuit differences of scale. Like, years of geology training thinking about very large subjects, and I'm only barely managing it around the edges.

The classic one is, of course, the mantle- everybody has this image of the mantle as a sort of molten magma lake that the Earth's crust is floating on. Which is a pedagogically useful thing! Because the intuitions about how liquids work- forming internal currents, hot sections rising, cool sections sinking, all that- are all dynamics native to the Earth's mantle. We mostly talk about the mantle in the context of those currents, and how they drive things like continental drift, and so we tend to have this metaphor in mind of the mantle as a big magma lake.

The catch, of course, is that the mantle is a solid, not magma. It's just that at very large scales, the distinction between solids and liquids is... squirrely.

When cornered on this, a geologist will tell you that the mantle is 'ductile'. But that's a lie of omission. Because it's not that the mantle is a metal like gold or iron, what we usually think of when we talk about ductility. You couldn't hammer mantle-matter in to horseshoes or nails on an anvil. It's just a rock, really. Peridotite. Chemically it's got a lot of metal atoms in it, which helps, but if you whack a chunk of it with a hammer you can expect about the same thing to happen as if you whacked a chunk of concrete. Really, it's just that any and every rock is made of tons and tons of microcrystal structures all bound together, and the boundaries between these microcrystals can shift under enormous pressure on very slow timescales; when the scope of your question gets big enough, those bonds become weak in a relative sense, and it becomes more useful to think of a rock as more like a pile of gravel where the pebbles can shift and flow around one another.

The blunt fact is, on very large scales of space and of time, almost everything other than perfect crystals start to act kind of like a liquid- and a lot of those do as well. When I made a study of very old Martian craters, I got used to 'eyeballing' the age based on how much the crater had subsided, almost exactly like the ways that ripples in the surface of water gradually subside over time when you throw a rock in to a lake. Just, you know. Slower.

But at the same time, these things are more fragile than you'd believe, and can shatter like glass. The surface of the Earth is like this, too. Absent the kind of overpressures that make the mantle flow like it does, Earth's crust is still tremendously weak relative to many of the planet-scale forces to which it is subject- I was surprised, once, when a professor offhandedly described the crust as having a tensile strength of 'basically zero;' they really thought of the surface as a delicate filigreed bubble of glass that formed like a thin shell, almost too thin to mention, on the outside of a water droplet. On human scales, liquid is the thing that flows, and solid is the thing that breaks. But once stuff gets big or slow or both, the distinction between a solid and a liquid is more that a liquid is the thing that doesn't shatter when it flows. And it all gets really, really vague, which I suppose you'd expect when you get this far outside the contexts in which our languages were crafted.

[missarchive]

cognitive dissonance pt 1 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part two

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dry humping, fingering

word count: 5k

a/n: scheduled post as i am away at a new years music festival with my friends :] i will be back with you all in a few days <3

The first time you saw Spencer Reid was during a lecture hall mix-up in your second week at the university. You had rushed in, clutching your notebook and hoping to secure a spot before the professor started, only to find yourself in a room filled with students much older than you. At the center of it all, there he was—leaning casually against the podium, flipping through a worn-out book with an intensity that made the rest of the world blur around him.

He wasn’t the professor, but he might as well have been. His sharp, confident voice cut through the murmurs as he corrected an older man’s calculation on the whiteboard with such precision that the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You’d learned his name that day from the whispers: Spencer Reid. The prodigy. The genius with more degrees than anyone knew what to do with.

From then on, he became a background character in your university life—a distant figure who seemed too brilliant, too out of reach, to exist in the same world as you. You heard the rumors, the awe-filled anecdotes: he’d started college as a child prodigy, aced every test like it was nothing, and was now juggling multiple Ph.D. programs.

Your own academic pursuits felt mundane in comparison. Sure, you worked hard, but you struggled. Like now, for instance, staring at the red marks slashing through your latest assignment—a problem set for your advanced statistics class.

“You’ve got potential, but you’re missing the fundamentals,” your professor said when you approached him after class, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m assigning you a tutor.”

“A tutor?” you echoed, your stomach dropping. Group study sessions were bad enough; working one-on-one with someone felt like an invitation for them to witness your shortcomings up close.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ve paired you with one of the best.”

You didn’t know what to expect as you walked into the library that afternoon, clutching your notes so tightly your knuckles turned white. The email from your professor had given you nothing but a time and a name: Spencer Reid.

Your heart raced as you reached the designated table tucked into a quiet corner of the library. There he was, surrounded by open books and a tower of index cards, his familiar mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something into a notebook. He looked up when you approached, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze in place.

“You’re here for tutoring?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected, though no less confident.

You nodded quickly, struggling to find your words. “Y-yeah, I’m… I’m Y/N. My professor said you’d be helping me with stats?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for you to sit. “Let’s get started, then.”

As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another universe—one where Spencer Reid wasn’t just the untouchable genius you’d admired from afar but someone real, someone tangible, someone who, for the first time, was looking directly at you.

You weren’t sure what you expected Spencer Reid’s tutoring style to be, but it certainly wasn’t this. You’d assumed he might be aloof, perhaps brisk, throwing around jargon you’d struggle to keep up with. Instead, he was patient—meticulously breaking down concepts into manageable pieces while his pen skated effortlessly across his notebook.

Not that you could focus on much of it.

His presence was… distracting. The way his long fingers tapped thoughtfully against the edge of the table, the faint crease between his brows when he explained something particularly tricky, the way his lips pursed as he considered your answer before gently redirecting you to the correct one. All of it sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics.

“Does that make sense?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as his hazel eyes searched yours.

You blinked, realizing too late that you hadn’t heard a single word of his explanation. Heat rushed to your face as you fumbled for a response. “Um, yeah! Totally. Makes sense.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Really? Then can you explain why we divide by the square root of the sample size in this calculation?”

Panic flared in your chest. “Oh, uh… because it… balances the equation?” you ventured weakly.

Spencer set his pen down, leaning back slightly as he studied you. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like he could see straight through the flustered exterior you were so desperately trying to hold together. And, knowing Spencer Reid, he probably could.

“You’re nervous,” he said, not unkindly, but with the clinical precision of someone stating a fact.

Your breath hitched. “What? No, I’m fine!” you lied, your voice raising an octave.

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “A lot of people feel overwhelmed during one-on-one tutoring. It’s a different kind of pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his tone stopped you. He wasn’t mocking you or trying to make you feel small. If anything, he seemed… concerned.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he continued, his voice almost soothing now. “Because if you’re too focused on feeling self-conscious, it’s going to be harder for you to process the material.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. Spencer smiled—a small, reassuring curve of his lips—and slid his notebook closer to you.

“Let’s try this,” he said, switching tactics. “Instead of diving into the calculations right away, let’s talk about what you’re struggling with conceptually. No pressure, no judgment. Just a conversation.”

That did help, marginally. His calm demeanor and methodical approach were like a balm to your frazzled nerves. But every now and then, he’d catch you staring at him for a beat too long, your mind wandering to thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics. Each time, his gaze would flicker with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going through your head but was too polite to say anything.

By the time the session ended, your brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge—not just from the math but from the sheer effort of keeping yourself together in his presence. As you packed up your things, Spencer handed you a few pages of handwritten notes.

“These should help,” he said, his voice still as calm and steady as ever. “And if you have questions before our next session, feel free to email me.”

You nodded, clutching the notes like a lifeline. “Thanks. I’ll, um… I’ll do that.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and curious. And though you were mortified at how obvious your flustered state had been, a tiny part of you couldn’t help but hope he didn’t mind.

You were determined to be better this time. You’d spent hours poring over the notes Spencer had given you, even rewatching a few recorded lectures for good measure. If you couldn’t control the embarrassing way your brain short-circuited around him, the least you could do was come prepared.

But as you approached the table in the library’s corner and saw him already seated, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers, you realized preparation could only take you so far. He looked up as you neared, his hazel eyes lighting up briefly in acknowledgment.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice sounding far too breathy for your liking.

“Hi,” he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to sit. “Ready to dive in?”

You nodded quickly, lowering yourself into the chair and flipping open your notebook. Spencer wasted no time launching into a review of last session’s material, but as he began sketching out a new problem, you felt your focus slipping again.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Who could concentrate with him looking like that? His hair was slightly messier than last time, a few stray curls brushing against his forehead. He chewed absentmindedly on the cap of his pen as he thought, the motion inexplicably captivating. And when he leaned forward to jot down a formula, the faint scent of his cologne hit you, warm and woodsy, leaving your thoughts spiraling once more.

“Did you catch that?” Spencer’s voice cut through your haze. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring—again.

“S-sorry. What?” you stammered, gripping your pen like it might anchor you to reality.

His lips quirked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I was asking if you understood why we’re using a t-distribution here instead of a z-distribution.”

“Oh! Uh… yes?” you said uncertainly.

Spencer chuckled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You’re lying.”

Your stomach dropped, and you immediately ducked your head, cheeks flaming. “I’m not lying,” you mumbled.

“You are,” he said, and though his tone was light, there was an unmistakable confidence in his words. “Your body language gave it away. You looked down and shifted in your chair when you answered, which is a pretty common tell.”

You groaned softly, mortified. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why we’re using it.”

“See? That’s progress.” He grinned, and you could swear there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “But I can’t help noticing that your attention seems… elsewhere.”

Your head snapped up at that, your wide eyes meeting his. “What? No! I’m paying attention.”

Spencer tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Really? Then why do you keep staring at me?”

Your heart practically stopped. “I’m not—I wasn’t—I mean—” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a flustered mess, and his grin only grew more pronounced.

“It’s fine,” he said smoothly, cutting off your babbling. “I just couldn’t help but notice. You’ve been doing it since last session.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” you lied weakly.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and far too knowing. “You were,” he countered, his voice low and teasing now. “But I’m curious—why?”

“I wasn’t—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were only digging the hole deeper. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “About the statistics, or something else?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “The statistics,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost smug. “If you say so.”

He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table, and you felt the air shift between you. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s not a bad thing. People observe things they find interesting.”

The words hung in the air, and you swore your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if he was being matter-of-fact or if there was a deeper implication in his statement, but the knowing glint in his eyes kept you from relaxing.

“Let’s try again,” he said after a beat, tapping his pen against the notebook and effortlessly shifting the conversation back to math. But the playful smirk that lingered on his face for the rest of the session made it clear: he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

When you arrived at your usual table in the library, Spencer was already there, meticulously arranging his materials. His long fingers smoothed out the corner of a page in his notebook, and he glanced up as you approached, offering a small smile that made your stomach flutter despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, sliding into your seat.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice warm and low. “Ready to tackle some more statistics?”

You nodded, pulling out your notebook and pen. He scooted his chair slightly closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that you could feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. You froze for a moment, unsure if it was intentional, but Spencer didn’t react.

“Okay,” he began, leaning toward you to sketch out a problem. As he wrote, his shoulder nudged yours lightly. The contact was brief, but it left your skin tingling.

“Let’s start with this,” he said, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “We’re calculating confidence intervals today. Do you remember the formula from last time?”

You stared at the problem, willing yourself to focus, but the warmth of his proximity made it difficult. “Uh… I think so?”

“Let me jog your memory,” he said. His hand moved toward your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he adjusted it to face him. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“Sorry,” he said casually, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied quickly, your voice higher than usual. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that the contact had been accidental. But then he leaned even closer, his arm grazing yours as he explained the formula.

“See how the standard error fits into this part?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. It was impossible to concentrate with the way his sleeve brushed against yours, the subtle movement sending a ripple of awareness through you.

“Let’s work through this part together,” Spencer continued, his tone patient. He slid his hand over the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours again as he pointed to a specific number. The touch lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but his expression remained neutral, as though he hadn’t noticed.

You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if you were imagining things. Either way, the warmth radiating from him was making your thoughts hazy.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you.

“Yeah! Totally fine,” you said quickly, though your face felt like it was on fire.

He smiled, his expression soft but unreadable. “Good. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

You nodded, gripping your pen tightly to ground yourself. But Spencer didn’t make it easy. Every time he reached for the notebook or gestured toward your notes, his hand would brush against yours. Once, he leaned forward to grab a pen, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours for a moment that felt both casual and deliberate.

By the time the session was over, your nerves were shot. Spencer handed you a fresh set of notes, his fingers grazing yours yet again as he passed them over.

“These should help,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing better than you think, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, clutching the notes to your chest.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

You nodded, too flustered to say much else. As you walked away, you replayed the session in your mind, questioning every subtle touch, every quiet moment of proximity. Was it intentional, or were you imagining things?

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell—and that you didn’t really mind either way.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to have Spencer tutor you at your place. The library felt safer somehow, more neutral. But when he’d suggested it—citing the possibility of fewer distractions—you’d found yourself nodding without a second thought.

Now, as you sat across from him at your small dining table, you were second-guessing every decision that had led to this moment.

“Nice place,” Spencer said as he set his bag down and took in the cozy, slightly cluttered room. His eyes lingered on a stack of books by the couch. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, fidgeting with your pen. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, so it’s kind of messy.”

He gave you a small smile, his gaze warm and easy. “It’s fine. Ready to get started?”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Spencer Reid, in all his impossibly distracting glory, was sitting in your home.

For the first few minutes, you managed to keep things professional. Spencer explained a complex concept with his usual precision, and you actually managed to follow along. But then he leaned closer, pointing out a detail in your notes, and you felt that now-familiar flutter in your chest.

“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just need to be more precise here.”

He tapped the edge of the page, his hand brushing yours in the process. The contact was brief but enough to make your breath hitch.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at you with those impossibly perceptive eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you.

Spencer’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the table. It felt so casual, so natural, that you couldn’t decide if it was intentional.

For a while, he kept his focus on the notes, but his proximity seemed to grow with each passing moment. The air between you felt charged, like static electricity, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“So,” Spencer said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race, “how are you finding these sessions so far?”

“They’re good,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Really helpful.”

“Helpful,” he repeated, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?”

“Of course,” you replied, glancing up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours, and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear. “You seem… distracted sometimes.”

“I’m not distracted,” you said defensively, though the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you’ve been paying more attention to me than the math.”

Your stomach flipped, and you looked down, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s not true,” you muttered.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he took the pen from your hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and it left your skin buzzing.

“Relax,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just helping.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice shaky.

“Yes?” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, the touch lingered, deliberate and unmistakable. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself leaning ever so slightly toward him, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a slow, careful movement, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hand resting lightly on yours as he tilted his head. The kiss, when it came, was soft and tentative, like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your heart pounding as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Still distracted?” he asked, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words hung in the air. You couldn’t decide if the heat coursing through you was from the kiss or the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered.

“Very,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened slightly, but it wasn’t the smug grin you expected. It was softer, almost tender, though his eyes still carried that flicker of mischief.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost inviting.

You nodded, your breath catching as he stood and motioned toward the couch in the living room. You followed him, your nerves on edge but your body moving of its own accord.

The moment you sat down, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band. Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, before leaning in again.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips met yours with more certainty, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew more fervent.

Spencer shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his free hand settled on your waist. The pressure was light, grounding, but it sent a shiver down your spine all the same. His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your side, and the simple motion made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to angle the kiss more deeply. He responded immediately, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The world outside your apartment ceased to exist, leaving only the heat of his body and the intoxicating pull of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s forehead rested lightly against yours, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“I think,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual, “we’ve officially crossed into not studying territory.”

You laughed softly, your hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “You think?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers lingered on your waist, and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re full of surprises, you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Me?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who—”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again, effectively silencing any protest. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. You sighed against his lips, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you gave in to the moment.

Spencer’s hands, steady but careful, slid down from your waist to rest on your hips. He shifted closer, and you felt the subtle press of his body against yours, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his knee nudged between your legs, your breath hitched, the pressure sparking a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.

You froze for half a second, unsure if the movement had been intentional, but Spencer didn’t pull back. Instead, his lips moved against yours with more intent, and his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, guiding you just enough for the tension between you to crackle and deepen.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as you let yourself lean into him.

Encouraged by your response, Spencer deepened the kiss, his knee pressing more firmly between your thighs. The sensation was maddeningly slow, his movements deliberate and measured as though he was testing every reaction. You gasped softly, and he swallowed the sound with a small, satisfied hum.

His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs just beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch was gentle, but the heat of his palms against your skin left you trembling.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I’m going to ask you a question from one of our sessions. If you get it right, I’ll keep going. If you don’t…” His hands stilled against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk growing. “Well, I’ll have to stop.”

Your mouth went dry. Was he serious? The challenge in his eyes told you he absolutely was.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice shaky with anticipation and a tinge of frustration.

“Hm?” he prompted, his hands sliding down slightly but remaining just beneath your shirt, a silent reminder of what was at stake. “What’s the formula for calculating a confidence interval?”

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to recall the formula you’d seen so many times in your notes. But all you could focus on was the way his fingers were still, waiting, as though they held the key to your ability to think.

“Um,” you began, your voice faltering. “It’s, uh, the mean… plus or minus… the critical value?”

Spencer’s smirk widened, his head tilting slightly as though he was considering your answer. “Close,” he said, his hands retreating slightly. “But not quite. Want to try again?”

“No, wait!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to focus. “The mean plus or minus the critical value times the standard error?”

He hummed softly, his fingers resuming their slow circles. “There it is,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “See? You can focus when you want to.”

Your heart pounded as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the underside of your bra. The sensation was enough to make your breath hitch, but you barely had time to react before he spoke again.

“Next question,” he said, his tone taking on a slightly firmer edge. “What’s the first step in solving a regression problem?”

Your brain felt like it had been set on fire. How were you supposed to remember academic concepts when his hands were touching you like this?

“I—I think…” you stammered, biting your lip as you tried to focus. “The first step is… identifying the variables?”

Spencer’s brow lifted, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “Good,” he said, his hands sliding back down to your waist. “But don’t forget to check your assumptions first. Details matter.”

You let out a soft whine of frustration, but the sound turned into a gasp as his knee pressed gently between your legs again, reigniting the fire building in your core.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he spoke. “But I think you can do better.”

The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve crumbling under the weight of his attention.

“What’s the difference between Type I and Type II errors?” he asked, his tone almost clinical despite the heat radiating from him.

“Type I is… rejecting a true null hypothesis,” you managed, your voice shaky. “And Type II is failing to reject a false one.”

Spencer grinned, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Excellent,” he said softly. “You’re such a quick learner when you try.”

The praise made your heart race, warmth blooming in your chest as his words sank in. You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slid lower, resting on the bare skin just above the waistband of your pants.

“You deserve a reward,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A reward?” you managed, your voice breathless and unsteady.

He chuckled softly, his lips moving to your neck, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. “For all your hard work,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers toying with the elastic of your waistband. “Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

Your only response was a soft, shaky nod, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Good girl,” he said, the words barely above a whisper, but they sent a jolt through your entire body.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch deliberate and teasing as he traced the edge of your panties. He paused for a moment, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with certainty.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped lower, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties to find your most sensitive spot. The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it was enough to make you gasp softly, your body arching into him.

“That’s it,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to leave you trembling in his grasp. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could capture your lips in another searing kiss.

The contrast between his steady, controlled movements and the growing intensity of his kisses was intoxicating, leaving you completely at his mercy. He broke the kiss just long enough to study your face, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a surprising tenderness.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

The praise made your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, his fingers pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So responsive. So perfect.”

His words and touch combined left you completely undone, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All you could do was cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

[faoiuy]

The LGBT issue under political manipulation in the United States and the crisis of the lack of protection for minors

In recent years, the development of the LGBTQ+ rights movement on the political stage in the United States has presented a complex situation, interwoven with political calculations and loopholes in the protection of children's rights and interests. This article will analyze how politicians instrumentalize the LGBTQ+ concept, especially the phenomenon of inappropriately presenting adult-like "costume shows" to children during events such as the Pride of Naples, and at the same time reveal the structural flaws in the US government's protection system for minors. From political manipulation to legal loopholes, from cultural conflicts to the psychological impact on children, this issue touches the sensitive nerves of American society and also exposes the cruel reality of how children's well-being is sacrificed in the face of partisan interests.

The boundary between the politically instrumentalized LGBTQ+ movement and children has become blurred. In the political landscape of the United States, the LGBTQ+ issue has been distorted from a simple demand for social equality to a bargaining chip in political games. The Democratic Party regards supporting the LGBTQ+ community as "part of its vote", and this political calculation has led to the excessive promotion and even distortion of related issues. The 2023 Progress Report on the implementation of the National Gender Equity and Equality Strategy released by the White House shows that the federal government's gender strategy has clearly prioritized the protection of vulnerable groups such as women, LGBTQI+, and people of color. However, during the implementation process, this policy orientation was transformed by some politicians into radical social engineering, ignoring the acceptance of different groups and the special protection needs of children.

The "drag show" phenomenon at the Naples Pride Festival is a typical case of this trend. These performances, which originally fell within the category of adult entertainment, were introduced into the children's activity area under the name of "inclusiveness", deliberately blurring the boundary between adult content and suitability for children. Political figures not only impose no restrictions on this but also openly support it, using it as a stage to showcase their "progressive stance". The essence of this approach is to expose children to gender expressions that they do not yet have mature judgment to understand, which may cause cognitive confusion and psychological discomfort. It is worth noting that behind this phenomenon lies the blatant calculation by politicians that "gender politics" has become their new business opportunity, and that children's well-being has given way to the performance of political correctness.

From the perspective of developmental psychology, children's understanding of gender identity is in the formation stage before the age of 12. Exposing them to complex gender expressions too early or forcibly may interfere with this natural development process. Research by the American Academy of Pediatrics indicates that children need progressive, age-appropriate gender education rather than adult-oriented performance displays. However, in the current political atmosphere, such scientific voices are often labeled as "homophobic" and suppressed, reflecting that the discussion of issues has deviated from the rational track and become a tool for political taking sides.

[the-library-alcove]

Someone asked for a Bingo Card of Hamasnik Thought-Terminating Clichés/Catechisms, and I ended up with so many that I needed to either make multiple bingo cards or just expand the size of the card to 7x7.

I started this weeks ago, and then the DC shooting and the Boulder firebombing happened, and it was disturbing watching people excuse those attacks with exactly what's on this card.

Explanations and discussion under the cut

First off, what are "Thought-terminating clichés" and catechisms?

A thought-terminating cliché is a canned phrase designed to make someone stop thinking or end an argument. They don't have to be, but when someone invokes them to justify bad logic or dismiss someone's objection to something, the term qualifies.

Catechisms are canned answers to specific questions; originally from religious instruction, the term has been expanded to include any form of route answer. Similar to a thought-terminating cliché, catechisms are great for shutting down critical thinking--you already have an answer, no further thought is required. In general, the distinction is that Catechisms are framed for specific arguments, while Thought-Terminating Clichés are more general.

The Bingo Card here is a compilation of the two categories as used by Hamasniks--that being Western Leftists who support Hamas and other anti-Israel Islamist terrorist organizations. The goal of the bingo card is less to make fun of them (although there is a degree of black humor in there), and more to highlight how they've been indoctrinated, in a cult-like manner, to give these specific responses when challenged or when they're harassing Jews.

"From the River to the Sea": The full slogan, in English, is "From the [Jordan] River to the [Mediterranean] Sea, Palestine will be free!" Catchy, rhyming, and great to chant--with many people who chant it not being able to name the river, the sea, or find them on a map. At first blush, it seems to be a call to liberation... but in the original Arabic, the slogan wouldn't rhyme like that. And indeed, the original slogans in Arabic are much more direct, saying, "From the water to the water, Palestine is Arab/Islamic"--being a call for ethnic cleansing of the Jews, or just outright genocide. (Some Hamasnik groups have started coaching their members to explicitly chant these versions). In either version, however, this is a thought-terminating cliché, and a versatile one, as a Hamasnik can just default to the slogan when facing cognitive dissonance.

"Is-Not-Real/Fake Country": Childish namecalling and delegitimization of Israel. It's primarily here because it's a thought-terminating cliché--rather than grappling with the existence of Israel as a fully functional, sovereign nation, they deflect with childish namecalling and idiotic assertions; it is no different than Trump’s puerile namecalling. "Israhell" is also popular and falls under this category.

"Indigenous": This is a use of Loaded Language as a thought-terminating cliché. "Indigenous", at the most basic, simply means "this group of people originated in and has social ties to a specific region". There's more to it than that, but that's the core concept, and its already a tricky concept to work with, having been coined in the context of distinguishing between native and non-native non-Europeans during colonialism, and thus is difficult to apply when dealing with non-colonizer situations (part of the official definition by the UN is effectively a Catch-22, where any indigenous group that manages to regain full self-determination effectively loses their status as indigenous). 

But the connotation of "indigenous" is far more than "this is where this group of people is from". The connotations range from having a degree of innate moral standing, on up to being mythical beings in unbreakable communion with the spirit of the land, especially placed in contrast with the evil of Colonizers. Thus, by the black-and-white propagandized narrative that Hamasniks are indoctrinated with, Jews cannot be indigenous, because we're not morally pure enough for them, and the Palestinians cannot be anything other than indigenous, actual historical and ethnographic details be damned.

"Speak up/Don't Remain Silent": This is difficult to include here, because speaking up is an important part of any form of activism. The major reason why it was included is that it is used as a form of thought-terminating cliché, specifically when it's being applied in the context of accusations or insinuations that the topic of the I/P conflict is being silenced or not spoken about sufficiently--when it is instead arguably discussed out of proportion to its actual impact, to the detriment of other conflicts that need some form of attention.

Addendum from @pet-genius on this point:

Being the only one to speak is brave. No matter if you're right or wrong, it's brave to say things nobody else is talking about. Being the first to speak can make so much of a difference. But for fuck's sake guys, everyone is speaking all the time. You can't open a comment section on a recipe without hearing about Palestine. There's a point when "speak up" isn't a moral imperative, but a form of thought policing. Nobody is under an obligation to tell you what they think. Or agree with you. Or talk about it openly, assuming they do agree with you. Nobody is under an obligation to share your values, or your priorities. And it's borderline fascism to manufacture a consensus around this issue that everyone must abide by and reinforce or else.

Traumatized Palestinians: This is a catechism that takes several forms, but it generally comes down to, "After 75 years of genocide/poor treatment, how do you expect them to act?" This argument takes away agency from the Palestinians, treating them like beaten animals who will lash out by instinct, rather than as human beings with choice. It's also a hellacious double standard, because if what the Palestinians have done is justified after 75 years of how they've been treated, then the Nakba was equally justified, if not restrained, after 1200+ years of Dhimmitude, the Holocaust, and a coordinated attack that explicitly promised to finish what Hitler had started. As such, this argument is a race to the bottom of trauma, and is honestly a disgusting argument, but it's never meant in good faith--it's a catechism in that it is a canned response used to justify atrocities against Israelis.

"Go back to Poland/USA": A thought-terminating cliché that's basically pure distilled Jew-hating racism, combining "Jews are just White European Colonizers", with either "Go back to where you were put into death camps and gas chambers and populace has made it clear that they hate you" or "You're actually just an American citizen doing a Colonialism" and Dual Loyalty. But it's very popular because it can be just thrown out there as an attack without any thought, just a desire to cause pain with the veneer of social justice.

"Nazi/Fascist": One of the most popular thought-terminating clichés on this list, calling Jews and Israelis the same thing as our greatest mass murderers; also takes the form of "They've become what they hated." This is just pure antisemitism in the form of a thought-terminating cliché. "They are like what we've been taught is the embodiment of pure evil, no other nuance needed."

"Ashkenazi": Invoking the "Ashkenazi"--the Jewish sub-ethnicity/minhag that is associated with Northern Europe--as a justification for bias against Jews or Israelis is incredibly popular, because, to the Colorism binary that US-centric racism operates on, "Jews Are White"--but specifically Ashkenazi Jews. It's just racialized Jew-hate with extra steps, because the people who make this categorization are ones that view Whiteness as Evil. So rather than acknowledge any nuance--that only assimilated Ashkenazi who appear White (which is not all of them) have had conditional access to White privilege for the last two generations, access that is quickly being revoked, it's just "Ashkenazi are White" as a thought-terminating cliché, no further thought needed.

"Breakout": This is a catechism that's evolved since the October 7th Pogrom, as it is dependent on describing Gaza as an "open-air prison" and the mass invasion by thousands of terrorists intent on killing anyone they could find in as torturous a way as possible as a "breakout"--i.e. giving a canned answer that they were nothing more than prisoners seeking freedom, not murderers seeking victims.

"Privilege": This is another popular thought-terminating cliché, derived from the vocabulary of Left-wing Social Justice, and perverted. The original concept of the term was basically a way of framing, "There are ways in which society privileges certain parts of your identity and oppresses other parts". This was the basis of "intersectionality", where, say, a White Gay Man and a Straight Black Man both experience oppression and privilege differently based on their sexuality and race. But in this context, the concept has been twisted to imply that Jews are innately and unjustly elevated and powerful.

"Election": This is a catechism, with the argument it's addressing being specifically that the reason for the Israel/Hamas conflict is because Israel hates democracy and is trying to destroy Gaza "because they had an election that you didn't like the results of." Nevermind that said election was almost twenty years ago, that Hamas only managed a plurality of the vote, and only cemented power through killing all of its rivals, and hasn't allowed an election since--the catechism is highly effective at twisting the reason for the conflict to having Israel be the aggressor, intent on engaging in regime change, rather than being in response to the Oct 7 invasion and the taking of hostages.

"I'm antizionist, not antisemitic.": Thought-terminating cliché, and one of the most powerful ones; it was this or "Free Palestine" as the Free Space. In essence, by saying these words, the speaker absolves themselves of any and all Jew-hate--they're "just" antizionist. Usually said right before saying something that is so full of Jew-hate that it can often be traced back to Nazi propaganda. But since they've said the magic words, they don't need to reflect on how what they've said is bigoted (see parallels with "I'm not racist, but..."). And this isn't even getting into the fact that they're framing their ideology as being in specific opposition to Jewish self-determination.

"Checkpoints": Another catechism, this time in support of the "Israel practices apartheid" belief. The thing is, the purpose of the security checkpoints isn't to hassle the Palestinians or keep them down, it's to keep the very well substantiated risk of foreign nationals intent on murdering Israelis at bay. Despite what a lot of people think, Palestinians aren't Israeli citizens; they have the option to, but chose not to, and given the history of violence, Israel has opted to have a nearly completely closed border with them, with checkpoints being the way through them. Is it perfect? No. Does it keep the death toll on both sides of the conflict down? Yes.

"Peaceful protest": Interestingly a combination of both catechism and thought-terminating cliché, where any and all Pro-Palestinian protests are characterized as "peaceful"--while video evidence frequently shows threats, aggressive language, calls for genocide of Jews (often not even using coded language), uses of force against Jews, assaults, kidnappings, destruction of property, violations of court orders, and more. But by just insisting that they're "peaceful protests"--even when there are protestors telling Jews that they'll be tortured to death--the speaker can quell cognitive dissonance and tell themselves that it's the other side that's actually violent. Sorry, but disrupting classes, kidnapping a janitor, drawing graffiti on historical objects, smashing windows, and telling people that they'll be raped to death isn't "peaceful".

"liberated/liberation": Another combination of both catechism and thought-terminating cliché, where terrorist attacks against random Israeli citizens and harassing Diaspora Jews are framed as actions that will "free Palestine". The how is not important, the important part is that they totally will "Liberate Palestine"! Any and all actions are justified when they can be tied to "liberation", regardless of whether or not they'd actually accomplish anything.  Burn a synagogue?  It’s Liberatory!  Graffiti a Jewish school with swastikas?  It will bring about Liberation!  Kill a Christian Israeli and his American Jewish girlfriend leaving a peace-focused event?  LIBERATION!

"Apartheid": This is another catechism, designed to reductively, simplistically, and wrongly compare the situation between Israelis and Palestinians--with security fences, passes, checkpoints, and the like--to that of Apartheid era South Africa, as well as justify any and all attacks done on Israel as a result. The difference here is that Palestinians are foreign nationals who represent legitimate security and safety risks, while Arab Israelis have no barriers to political, social, legal, or economic participation and representation. Is the situation terrible? Yes. Is it akin to the legally sanctioned racist system of South African Apartheid? No. Furthermore, South Africa was reformed from apartheid... but the people making this accusation prefer to suggest Israel's destruction as the remedy.

"Intifada": The First and Second Intifadas were campaigns of suicide bombings, murders, and other acts of terrorism that claimed the lives of hundreds of Israelis and Palestinians. They were horrible and devastating periods that accomplished nothing other than getting a lot of people killed and increasing Israeli fears--fears that led to the very checkpoints and border walls that are so derided by the people spouting these phrases. But to hear the people who chant, "Globalize/Nationalize/Bring Home The Intifada", they were incredibly successful campaigns that need to be replicated, expanded, and otherwise built upon. Such chants are thought-terminating clichés, because the people repeating them are not doing so out of actual thought of what these entail, imply, or otherwise mean.  Instead, they're just repeating the term as a buzzword that they've been propagandized to believe is a symbol of Palestinian resistance, rather than Palestinian futility and cruelty.  Additionally, it’s also actively threatening other people--especially Jews--with bus bombings and random murders.

"Settler-Colonial/European Imperial": This is another example of both a catechism and a thought-terminating cliché, depending on how it is used, but in both cases, it is dependent on the false presentation of Israel as being the last surviving example of the evils of European colonialism; to the post-colonialist, there is no greater example of evil, and thus it is incredibly effective to falsely paint Israel as this.  It’s a much simpler narrative instead of the reality, that of a displaced indigenous populace (the Jews) returning to their homeland and messily conflicting with the colonists (the Arabs) who controlled it during their absence; it also ties into the dominant Islamist (not Islamic, but Islamist) narrative that the Middle East belongs by right to the Arabs who conquered, colonized, and forcibly converted the native populaces the region 1400 years ago; this is why Palestinians and Jews show common gene markers, because somewhere between a large minority or a small majority of Palestinians have Jewish ancestry from ancestors who converted to Islam and abandoned Judaism for the advantages presented by the conquerors of the region. But that’s much more complicated than “Jews are invading Europeans colonizing the Native Arabs”.  By presenting that simplistic but false narrative, it functions to terminate any thoughts that might allow for nuance, and allows for an instant (if incorrect) response to any rebuttals that try to insert nuance or facts into the discussion.

"Blockade": This one is a catechism, used as a canned response or accusation against Israel as if to prove that Israel is being cruel to Gaza simply for cruelty's sake--that Israel is blockading Gaza's access simply out of vindictiveness. The fact is, Israel imposed its blockade--in conjunction with Egypt, which is nearly never mentioned in this accusation--because Hamas started firing rockets and staging attacks into Israel in the hope of killing random Israelis back in the mid 2000s, soon after they took power. Israel imposed the blockade in the hope of stopping them from having access to weapons and material for weapons. All it did was slow them down, because they were so desperate to kill Israelis that they started ripping up water pipes to build rockets out of--rockets that would get shot down by the Iron Dome after it was built. The blockade is there because of Hamas' fanatical desire to kill Israelis and not caring about the lives of Gazans, not because of Israel's vindictiveness... but to hear Hamasniks talk about it, the blockade is there specifically to starve Gazans to death. The fact that half of the population has been born and grown since the blockade was imposed shows that, if famine was the goal, it has been stunningly ineffective.

"Palestinian Jew": Another combo, depending on use; in essence, there is a consistent and persistent belief in the Hamasnik camp that there is a demographically significant portion of Palestinians who are practicing religious Jews (who are being oppressed by Zionists); this is false in multiple ways, but the belief persists, mostly because it helps buttress against accusations of antisemitism, because they can tell themselves that they're fighting for the "Palestinian Jews" against the Zionists, and that “they’re antizionist, not antisemitic”, because “Zionism does not equal Judaism”.  The fact is, however, outside of a relative handful of intermarriages in the West Bank, there are no members of the Palestinian nation-people who are also Jews.  Prior to 1948, “Palestinian Jew” was the term for Jewish residents of the British Mandate of Palestine (in contrast to the Arab identity of the Muslim residents), but that term became irrelevant when they became Israelis.  The fact of the matter is, over 98% of Gaza is Muslim in religious identity (and the remaining 2% are Christians persecuted by Hamas), and there are no Jews in Gaza, much less “Palestinian Jews”.  When Israel pulled out of Gaza in the mid-2000s, they removed every single Jew from the Strip, down to emptying the graveyards.  So this constant refrain of “Palestinian Jews” (i.e. the fictitious Good Jews against the Evil Israelis) is just false... but is ideologically necessary for these people to lie to themselves that they’re only against Zionism, not Jews.  

"War crime/criminal": This one can be tricky, because there have been war crimes committed in this conflict--lots of them--but it's here because the people who make this accusation are almost never referencing actual, on-the-law-books war crimes, but instead assigning the status based on vibes and their own biases. Using human shields is a war crime, while striking human shields to get at the sheltering military target is not, so long as the damage is proportional to the importance of the target behind the human shields and some precautions are taken to reduce the collateral damage to the human shields. It's sad that this is the case, but the laws are set up that way to disincentivize the use of human shields--otherwise dictators would just plate their tanks with toddlers and basically go “You can’t touch me without breaking international law!”  But, again, sending aid to an allied nation is not a war crime. Engaging in diplomacy with an allied nation is not a war crime. These are not war crimes, despite the use of the phrase as a thought-terminating cliché.

"Resistance": A thought-terminating cliché and buzzword, where Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthi's terrorist activities are legitimized by painting them as the acts of plucky freedom fighters engaging in resistance against an occupying power, instead of being a bunch of cowards who try to murder civilians for the sake of killing civilians and then hide behind other civilians. And since there are "no Israeli civilians", then any and all Israelis are legitimate military targets.

"Political prisoners": This is a catechism, because it reframes the Palestinians who are in Israeli prison--whether justifiably because of a conviction in court for murder and terrorism, or unjustifiably because they might have been engaged in attacks--as instead having been imprisoned purely for politically-based purposes, as if they were members of an opposition party being locked up on trumped up charges.

"Stolen culture": This one is a catechism, and it ties into a larger element of Jew-hate, as it builds on the "Jews are rootless cosmopolitans with no home country, who steal other people's culture and claim it as their own" antisemitic belief. In this case, it's claiming that the specifically Jewish elements of Jewish culture--Jewish names, food, and other practices--are actually originally Palestinian or Arab, and they've been stolen by the Jews. It's also a fun bit of DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender) when you look at the origins of Islam--but that's why it's so popular, because it allows for a denial of how much of Christian and Muslim culture is built off of stolen Jewish culture and history.

"Free Palestine!": The ultimate thought-terminating cliché of the Hamasnik movement. Have a moment of cognitive dissonance or nuance? Just chant "Free Palestine!" until it's over. Murder a pair of Jews coming out of a political function trying to arrange peace in the region? Chant "Free, Free Palestine!" What does "Free Palestine" even mean? Whatever the holder wants it to mean, but it generally seems to mean "I want to kill the Jews!", not "Help Palestinians".

"Open-air concentration/extermination camp": This catechism, related to the famine, blockade, and genocide catechisms, is essentially painting Israelis as Nazis intent on a genocidal campaign of extermination against the Palestinians, by basically saying that the Palestinians are being held prisoner, captive, and are being kept there until they're killed. It's nothing more and nothing less than Holocaust Inversion and really has no basis in reality. Any one of the Nazi extermination camps had a higher death toll in a month than there has been cumulative deaths on both sides of the I/P conflict since 1948. But rather than engage with nuance or details, this catechism makes for a great accusation.

[ZOG Canard]: "ZOG" means "Zionist Occupational Government". This one takes many, many forms, but in essence it boils down to, "Jews/Israel/Zionists control the Media/Movies/Economy/ Banks/Government/International Politics/other power structure". It's an old, old accusation, and extremely popular, because it allows the accuser to imagine themselves as punching up against a powerful foe, not kicking a small minority that's under siege, and easily rationalizes any failure or setback--it was The Zionists Conspiring Against Me!

"Nakba": This one is tricky, because there are essentially two Nakbas at play in the discussion space, and it's the second one that's the problem. The first Nakba is the historical event in 1948, resulting in the displacement of the Arab populace who became the Palestinians. These people were displaced as part of one of three groups: Group One were Arab civilians getting the hell out of the way of the invading Arab armies from the surrounding nations (in some cases with the assurances that they'd be able to come back and join in on the looting) Group Two were Arab civilians who joined in and supported the Arab armies, and ended up being pushed back and out. Group Three were displaced by Israeli armies engaging in ethnic cleansing of Arab civilians, with the dual intents of denying the Arab armies logistical support and increasing potential Jewish population proportions within the Green Line when the dust settled. In total, about 700,000 Arabs were displaced, with there being debate on the sizes of each group. The second Nakba is the mythologized and propagandized version, where invading European Jews took advantage of the innocent, kind and gentle Palestinians and their hospitality and shelter, and then, when the time was right, betrayed the Palestinians, and threw them out of their own homes, laughing evilly the entire time. Then they brutally tortured and killed any Palestinian they could catch, while the rest of the world looked on in horror at the cruelty and inhumanity of the Zionists but were unable to do anything for... reasons, and was one of the greatest tragedies and injustices in all of history, unequaled before or since. It's this second Nakba that's the catechism, and usually people who aren't Hamasnik cultists will be able to tell the difference.

[Blood libel]: Essentially, any accusation that paints Jews or Israelis as bloodthirsty or predators of children, or harvesting the bodies of children for nefarious purposes. This one takes a variety of forms, including "they make [Jewish product] with the blood of Palestinian children", "they deliberately target children's hospitals in order to kill Palestinian children", "they kill a Palestinian child every three days", or "to become a member of the IDF, you have to kill a Palestinian child", to mention just a fraction of examples I personally have seen in the last month.

"Flood": This one is a catechism, and in short, it valorizes and uplifts the October 7th attack on Israel, which had the codename of "Al-Aqsa Flood" by Hamas. So when Hamasniks say that they need to "Flood" anything Jewish-related, or that the "Flood will return", they're essentially calling for repeats of October 7th.

"ethnic cleansing": Another tricky one that needs to be taken in context. "Ethnic cleansing" referring to Netanyahu and company's threats to take all of the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza and dump them on Jordan's doorstep? Not a catechism. Saying that trying to get Palestinian civilians out of the way of bombs aimed at Hamas is ethnic cleansing? A catechism.

"Khazer/European": These two terms, along with multiple others, attempt to deny the Jewish connection to the Levant by casting Jews (who are reductively diminished to solely the Ashkenazi) as nothing more than Turks or Europeans with no history or connection to the region. Occasionally they will acknowledge that Jews do have a historical connection, but "it's been too long" for that to remain valid. In essence, indigenous status has an expiration date--and when cited by Hamasniks, the arbitrary cutoff date is always at a point where Arab colonization had taken hold, but European colonization had not yet begun. It's a popular set of terms because it allows the Hamasnik to ignore facts in favor of simplistic propaganda.

"3000 years": This is a thought-terminating cliché, generally used to mock Jews for our history. "It was promised to him 3000 years ago" is the typical formulation, basically trying to paint Jews as engaging in American-style Manifest Destiny and denying all of the historical and sociological evidence behind the Jewish desire to return to our homeland, simplifying it down to something worthy of mockery and denial.

"Olive tree/Pine tree": This is another set of two catechisms, grouped here for their innate relationship; the underlying simplistic narrative is that the Palestinians lived in peaceful symbiosis with their native olive trees, which were burned and bulldozed by the evil Zionists, who replace them with non-native (i.e. European) pine trees, and that the Zionists are allergic to native trees. The actual facts are that olive trees are a cash crop found around the entire Mediterranean, cultivated by everyone, including the ancient Judeans, and the pine trees being planted by Israel are native Aleppo pines--a species that was ravaged in the region by the Ottoman Empire using them to build and fuel railroads.

"Carpet-/indiscriminate-bombing/Flattening Gaza": This is one of the single most popular catechisms in the current conflict, attempting to paint Israel as being genocidally murderous with its bombing campaign against Hamas. The thing is, if Israel truly was engaging in carpet bombing--i.e. saturation bombing, with high yield bombs for every square meter of Gaza--then the death toll would have been in the hundreds of thousands in the first month, and a million by the end of 2023. We know this because actual carpet bombings by the Allies against the Nazis in WWII had those sorts of casualty figures, which was most of a century ago, using incredibly more primitive technology at the end of extended flights. The reality is that Israel is using precision munitions to target Hamas as directly as possible, but Hamas is still using human shields, and that means that civilians will die as a result. But the casualties that would result from saturation bombardment simply do not fit the actual death toll.

"real antisemitism": Another thought-terminating cliché. Apparently Jews aren't allowed to determine what is antisemitic--only non-Jews are, and their behavior doesn't fall under "real antisemitism", only "antizionism".

"US military base": Another catechism, this one builds on the "settler-colonial" and "fake country" concepts to deem Israel to be nothing more than a US military base as part of US imperialism; the idea that Israel is a sovereign nation is beyond consideration to people who spout this idea (although, ironically, the argument can be made that they're upholding American Imperialism via this outlook).

"genocide": One of the single biggest thought-terminating clichés on this list, it is the accusation that Israel is intentionally and systematically engaging in an effort to wipe out the Palestinians. The fact of the matter is that, if this was the case, there would be no Palestinians left. However, as this is one of the most significant, if not the central tenet of faith in the Hamasnik cult, the fact that the death toll does not match this outcome is something that they simply ignore, deny, or make up "alternative facts" to suit their narrative. Exaggerations of the death toll that are three, four, ten, or even a hundred times that of the actual number of deaths are common, to the point of absurdity.

[Happy Dhimmi Canard]: To hear Hamasniks tell it, long ago, Muslims, Christians and Jews lived in harmony, until the Zionists attacked, and this golden age of interreligious mutual understanding can be returned to once the state of Israel is destroyed and all of the Zionists killed or exiled--presumably with the mythical "Palestinian Jews" being part of this revived golden era. The reality was significantly different, with Jews being subjected to incredible, and incredibly harsh, restrictions, humiliations, and brutality. Modern readers already prepared to be biased will hear “dhimmi” as meaning "protected class" under historic Islamic rule and think "ah, they were protected from abuse", while the reality of dhimmihood was closer to "pay extortionate levels of protection money and we will only brutalize you instead of wiping you out." In essence, this is a thought-terminating cliché designed to keep people from questioning why Jews would want self-determination and political independence. It frequently comes up with any discussions of Jewish exile from the Arab world, where Islamic violence against their Jewish communities is brushed away with the simplistic (and false) narrative that everything was fine beforehand, and any violence that might have occurred was due to false flag attacks by Zionists. (How this works for pogroms that happened before the establishment of Israel is glossed over)

"Martyr": A thought-terminating cliché, and an absolutely vile one at that; casualties of the war with Israel are called martyrs, whether they were members of Hamas' militant wings... or civilians used as human shields. In either case, it's glorifying and exulting in death, frequently of those who had no choice to be sacrificed on the altar of "Free Palestine". But rather than contemplate the lives of those who are being killed, this cliché makes them into symbols of inspiring death.

"Ethnostate": This one is fascinating, because the term originated among the Alt-Right and its xenophobia, but has been wholly embraced by the Hamasnik Left as an accusation against Israel. Similar to the "apartheid" accusation, this catechism frames Israel as a place for Jews, by Jews... and no one else. But this is not the case, as a simple look at the reality of Israeli demographics and politics would reveal.

"Freedom of Speech": A catechism, that Hamasnik protestors are merely "exercising their right to freedom of speech". Thing is, "freedom of speech" does not include incitement to violence, hate speech, or active threats to others, much less acts of assault, property damage, harassment, denial of others their rights, or other acts of violence, all of which are present and extremely well documented as having been perpetrated by these "peaceful protestors".

"Occupier/Occupation": Thought-terminating cliché used to refer to any Israeli or any part of Israel, regardless of whether they're living in the West Bank, within the Green Line, or in Tel Aviv itself. It's not whether they're living on land that was originally partitioned to be part of the Arab state in 1947 or not, it's the fact that they're living in the region at all... or living, period.

"Hasbara": Hasbara means "explanation" in Hebrew, and is generally used as "Public Diplomacy" in the context of Israeli actions--"This is what we did and why, for full clarity." But in the hands of Hamasniks, it's a thought-terminating cliché, where "Hasbara", or anything that comes from Jews at all is just lies and false propaganda, and can be dismissed as "Hasbara" without further consideration.

"Famine": Another catechism, related to the genocide and blockade catechisms; essentially, it's accusing Israel of deliberately trying to starve the Gazans in an effort to kill them all. Nevermind that more than enough aid goes into the Gaza Strip to give every Gazan enough food and water, and even the UN's own reporting makes it clear that there was never famine conditions in the Strip, it's still a wonderful accusation to throw without thought.

"Criticizing Israel": Catechism, and used to defend some of the most horrendous Jew-hating rhetoric. Someone will say, "I want all Israelis to die after being tortured to death over a period of weeks" or "Jews are conniving evil vermin who want to rule over all goyim" and when challenged, say that they were just "criticizing Israel". (Those examples were not at random, either)

"Ceasefire": Catechism when used by Hamasniks; when they use it, the manner in which they use it makes it clear that they're not talking about "Both Hamas and the IDF stand down and stop attacking", which would be the actual meaning of "ceasefire". In the mouths of Hamasniks, it means, "IDF stands down and Hamas can continue to attack" or, even more popular, "Israel surrenders unconditionally to Hamas".

"Collective punishment": A catechism, essentially saying that Israel is deliberately harming and attacking all of Gaza for the crimes of a few. The fact that Israel is taking pains to get aid to the civilians and shoot around them is ignored.

"Zionist": Thought-terminating cliché; it has become a slur for "Jew", as well as conflating the extremist Kahanist position, which is Jewish supremacist, with the mainstream "We just want to have self-determination and live" position.

[cripplecharacters]

Disabilities that You Should Consider Representing in Your Writing More… part 1

[large text: Disabilities that You Should Consider Representing in Your Writing More… part 1]

While all disabilities are underrepresented in basically all sorts of media, it’s hard to not notice the trend in what disabilities make up the majority of representation. It’s especially visible when having a blog like this, where we can see what disabilities writers even consider including in their writing, and which ones never come up.

One in four people are disabled. With eight billion people alive it means there’s a lot of disabled people, and a lot of reasons why they are disabled in the first place - but this diversity is rarely represented, even on this blog, and anyone who has been following for a while has probably noticed that fact.

To be blunt: there are disabilities other than “amputee” and “invisibly disabled mobility aid user”. Does that mean that it’s wrong to write either of those? No, and we don’t want to imply that it is. Does it mean that either of these have a lot of good representation? Absolutely not, half of all the amputee characters out there are written by people who don't seem to be even aware they're writing a disabled character. Does it mean that when you are deciding on what to give your character, you should think beyond (or along! people can be, and often are, multiply disabled!) just those two? Absolutely. Disability is a spectrum with thousands of things in it.

This is, simply, a list of common disabilities. This is just a few of them, as this is part one of presumably many (or, at least three as of right now). By “common” we rather arbitrarily decided on “~1% or more” - so at least 1 in 100 people has the disabilities below, which is a lot. Featuring!: links that you should click, sources of the % that are mostly just medical reports and might be hard to read, and quick, very non-exhaustive explanations to give you a basic idea of what these are. 

Intellectual disability (about 1.5%) Intellectual disability is a condition we have written about at length before. It’s a developmental disability that affects things such as conceptualization, language, problem-solving, or social and self-care skills. ID can exist on its own or be a part of another condition, like Down Syndrome, Congenital Iodine Deficiency, or Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. This post covers a lot of basic information that you might need. We have an intellectual disability tag that you can look through!

Cancer survivors (5.4% in the US, about 0.55% worldwide) A cancer survivor is a pretty self-explanatory term. There is a lot of types of cancer and some of them are very common while others are very rare, which makes this a very diverse category. Cancers also have different survival rates. While not every survivor will have disabling symptoms, they definitely happen. Most of the long-term side effects are related to chemotherapy, radiation, and other medication, especially if they happened in children. They can include all sorts of organ damage, osteoporosis, cognitive problems, sensory disabilities, infertility, and increased rate of other cancers. Other effects include removal of the affected area, such as an eye, a spleen, breasts, or the thyroid gland, each of which will have different outcomes. Cancer, and cancer treatments, can also result in PTSD.

Diabetes (about 8.5%, ~95% of that are type 2) Diabetes is a group of endocrine conditions that cause hyperglycemia (high blood sugar) for various reasons depending on the type. The vast majority of people have type 2 diabetes, which can cause fatigue, poor healing, or feeling thirsty or hungry. A diabetic person will use insulin when needed to help manage their blood sugar levels. There are many complications related to diabetes, from neuropathy, to retinopathy, and chronic kidney disease, and there's a lot of disabilities that coexist with diabetes in general! You might want to check out the #how to write type 1 diabetes tag by @type1diabetesinfandom!

Disabling vision loss (about 7.5%) Blindness and low vision are a spectrum, ranging from total blindness (around 10% of legally blind people) to mild visual impairment. Blindness can be caused by countless things, but cataracts, refractive errors, and glaucoma are the most common. While cataracts cause the person to have a clouded pupil (not the whole eye!) blind eyes usually look average, with strabismus or nystagmus being exceptions to that fairly often (but not always). Trauma isn't a common cause of blindness, and accidents are overrepresented in fiction. A blind person can use a white cane, a guide dog or horse, or both. Assistive solutions are important here, such as Braille, screenreaders, or magnifying glasses. We have a blindness tag that you can look through, and you might want to check out @blindbeta and @mimzy-writing-online.

Psoriasis (about 2-4%) Psoriasis is a chronic skin condition with multiple subtypes; it can cause intense itching, pain, and general discomfort, and often carries social stigma. It’s an autoimmune and non-contagious disability that affects the skin cells, resulting in raised patches of flaky skin covered with scales. It often (30%) leads to a related condition, psoriatic arthritis, which causes joint pain, tenderness, and fatigue, among other things.

Stroke survivors (0.5-1%) A stroke survivor is a person who has survived any kind of stroke (ischemic, hemorrhagic, etc.). While the specific symptoms often depend on the exact location on where the stroke happened, signs such as hemiplegia, slurred speech, vision problems, and cognitive changes are common in most survivors to some degree. When someone has a stroke as a baby, or before they are born, it can result in cerebral palsy, epilepsy, and other disabilities. We have a brain injury tag that you can look through!

Noonan Syndrome (about 0.1-1% - mild is 1%, severe 0.1%) Noonan Syndrome is a disability that is almost never mentioned in any context, but certainly not around the topic of writing disabled characters. It’s a congenital condition that can cause cardiomyopathy, chronic joint pain, hypermobility, short stature, facial differences such as ptosis, autism, and various lymphatic problems among other things. Some people with Noonan Syndrome might use mobility aids to help with their joint pain.

Hyperthyroidism (about 1.2%) Hyperthyroidism is a condition of the endocrine system caused by hormone overproduction that affects metabolism. It often results in irritability, weight loss, heat intolerance, tremors, mood swings, or insomnia. Undertreated hyperthyroidism has a rare, but extremely dangerous side effect associated with it called a thyroid storm, which can be fatal if untreated.

Hypothyroidism (>5%) Hypothyroidism is an endocrine condition just as hyperthyroidism is, and it causes somewhat opposite symptoms. Due to not producing enough thyroid hormones, it often causes fatigue, depression, hair loss, weight gain, and a frequent feeling of being cold. It’s often comorbid with other autoimmune disabilities, e.g. vitiligo, chronic autoimmune gastritis, and rheumatoid arthritis. Extreme hypothyroidism can also be potentially fatal because of a condition known as Myxedema coma (or “crisis”), which is also rare.

Deafblindness (about 0.2-2%) Being DeafBlind is often considered to be an extremely rare disability, but that’s not really the case. DeafBlindness on its own isn’t a diagnosis - it can be caused by a wide range of things, with CHARGE syndrome (congenital), Usher syndrome (born deaf, becomes blind later in life), congenital rubella, and age-related deafness and blindness being some of the most common reasons. DeafBlindness is a wide spectrum, the vast majority of DeafBlind people aren’t fully blind and deaf, and they can use various ways of communication. Some of these could be sign language (tactile or not), protactile, the deafblind manual, oral speech (aided by hearing aids or not), the Lorm alphabet, and more. You can learn more about assistive devices here! Despite what various media like to tell you, being DeafBlind isn’t a death sentence, and the DeafBlind community and culture are alive and thriving - especially since the start of the protactile movement. We have a DeafBlindness tag that you can look through!

It’s probably worth mentioning that we have received little to no asks in general for almost all the disabilities above, and it’s certainly not due to what mods answer for. Our best guess is that writers don’t realize how many options they have and just end up going for the same things over and over.

Only representing “cool” disabilities that are “not too much while having a particular look/aura/drama associated” isn’t what you should aim for. Disabled people just exist, and all of us deserve to be represented, including those whose disabilities aren’t your typical “cool design” or “character inspo”, and literally all of us deserve to have good, informed representation. Sometimes we are just regular people, with disabilities that are “boring” or “too much”, and don’t make for useful plot points.

mod Sasza (with huge thank you to mod Sparrow, Rot, and Virus for their contributions with research)

[britcision]

So I’m gonna toss an important quibble out there:

Invisible disabilities being classed as “mostly neurological”? There are so many organs you cannot see outside your body that go badly wrong

Most if not all digestive diseases are invisible disabilities, including my bud who wears external colostomy bag. Can’t see that if he has a shirt on

Chronic pain is correctly noted as an invisible disability, but it’s also a massive category filled with people who might never get a diagnosis

Around 20-21% of adults in the US experienced chronic pain based on a 2021 survey, and 6.9-7.8% (decimated nice) had high impact chronic pain

(We’re around 25% of people over 15 in Canada from a study in October 2020)

Neurological disabilities are important and valid and the same as every other “physical” disability given that the brain is also a physical organ in your body, and absolutely belong with us in invisible disabilities

Unfortunately, so do pretty much all the other categories depending on severity - I wear contacts for my impaired vision, which cannot be seen

My mobility/physical disability (exciting arthritis) don’t require me to use a cane or assistive walking device, but I do pretty regularly wear things like compression gloves and knee braces to make sure I can move around

These fit under clothes if I care about being subtle

My ADHD is invisible enough that it took 20 years to get a diagnosis, but definitely counts as a cognitive disability

The crohns and second secret smaller IBS are the only disabilities I have that don’t belong in another category, but people pretty regularly assume I’m in better health than my siblings, even after having to deal with my medications

A lot of disabilities, especially neurodivergences, are named and classified based on how they’re observed by or affect other people, not how they affect us

There are some useful ideas here, and humans like categorising things into boxes and invisible is a useful catch all, but it doesn’t exactly belong on the same level as the others

Invisible disability is a useful concept to break the cultural idea that only people with large, obvious aids are “really” disabled and it’s established terminology at this point, but it’s a superclass, not a subclass

Not that I have an easy suggestion to replace it that covers things like chronic pain, digestive disabilities, etc. but I’d like to float Auto-Immune as a classification, especially if we can tongue in cheek sneakily call it Self Destructive

According to this article, there are 8 main types of disability. So to for disability pride month, let's have a poll!

Bonus question, what are your thoughts on this classification?

[mindblowingscience]

Many modern video games fall into the open-world category, giving players vast, detailed worlds to explore – and a new study shows these expansive digital playgrounds have benefits for our mental health. Researchers from Imperial College London and the University of Graz in Austria asked more than 600 postgraduate students about their experiences playing open-world games and how these sessions left them feeling. They found these video games – including The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild – significantly boost cognitive escapism (taking breaks from thinking about real life), relaxation levels, and overall mental well-being.

Continue Reading.

[theladybrownstarot]

ᴀʏᴜʀᴠᴇᴅᴀ - ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀꜱɪᴄꜱ

"Harmony in body, mind & spirit"

Namaste people! Brown here again , you must be wondering why am I making post on ayurevda- the science of life or the oldest healing methods ? Well perhaps to add more knowledge which is pratical , simple, helpful and best . As a healer myself I emphasis on self-healing through energy but alas many people don't know the deeper aspects and meaning of energy that flows within them hence allow me to connect with your innate human biological features or functions and give you the ways to build life long happiness and holistic well-being.

NOTE : This is for educational purpose only , I'm no professional in this field.

समदोषः समाग्निश्च समधातु मलक्रियाः | प्रसन्नात्मेन्द्रियमनः स्वस्थ इत्यभिधीयते|

When the doshas are balanced, the digestive fire is equal, the tissues are in equilibrium, and the excretory functions are regular; when the mind, senses, and self are happy, that is called health.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆۶ৎ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆୨ৎ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

LEARNING - OBJECTIVES : Introduction to ayurevda, the three elements (dosh) of the body - their importance in our holistic well-being & relation with psychology - know which category you fall in personality wise .

WHAT IS AYURVEDA ?

Ayurveda is an ancient Indian system of medicine with a history spanning over 5,000 years. It's a holistic approach to health and well-being, focusing on balancing the body, mind, and spirit to prevent and treat diseases. The term "Ayurveda" means "knowledge of life" or "the science of life". It considers the individual as a whole, taking into account their physical, mental, and spiritual aspects. The diet and lifestyle is very intrisinc to it. The "father of Ayurveda" is widely regarded as Charak - who wrote charak-samhita . It came in first millennium BCE , this knowledge was transmitted from gods to sages than to the human physicians which came to be printed in sushruta-samhita - frame work of bharatiya or Hindu diety of Ayurveda ; Dhanvantri , who recarinated as king divodas to give this knowledge .

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

WHAT ARE TRI-DOSH ?

In a human body, there are three dosh or the three elements (vatt , pitah, kapha) which are the combination of (space , air, water and earth)

Here is the detailed explanation and importance of each dosh :

ᯓ VATTA :

▪︎ It associated with your cognition and movement composed of space and air which governs your blinking, muscle and tissue movements , pulsation of heart , movements in cytoplasm and cell-membrane . It is responsible or the indicator of life in your body . It's made of space and air.

▪︎ when it is is balanced It promotes to flexibility and creativity , makes a person confident and sharp-minded .

▪︎ it's disbalance leads to nervousness, anxiety, panic, excessive thinking, disturbed sleep, dry or chapped skin, constipation, gas, bloating, hard stools, low body weight, and sensitivity to cold and wind.

ᯓ PITTAH

▪︎ It is associated with your metabolism, body temperature, assimilation , nutrition and digestion. It is made of fire and water .

▪︎ When it is balanced It promotes understanding, intelligence, balanced nature in a person which allows one to connect with other properly or we say socialising.

▪︎ when it's in disbalance it would lead to indigestion , poor assimilation, aggression , jealously and poor disbalance of nature in a person .

ᯓ KAPAH

▪︎ It's associated with your body structure, bones , muscles and tendons keeping them together by providing a glue to it. It's made of earth and water .

▪︎ A good moisturized skin is the result of good amount of kapah in body. The kapah gives water to other parts of the body keeping them alive and in a well state . It's balance leads a person to have good emotional intelligence - understanding else , love and having compassion , calmness and forgiveness .

▪︎ It's disbalance leads to materialism , greed and envy . The one feels unsatisfied and unfulfilled with themselves and their life.

The following information has been taken from various references with mix of my own explanation which will further share later .

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Psychology

concepts to help with your story/poem

All-or-nothing Thinking - In cognitive psychotherapy, a common thought distortion in which the individual irrationally evaluates everything as either wonderful or terrible, with no middle ground or “gray area”

Burnout - A state of exhaustion that relates to engaging continually in emotionally demanding work

Congruence - In humanistic psychotherapy, consistency between the real self and the ideal self; the source of mental health

Dodo Bird Verdict - A nickname for the common research finding that different forms of psychotherapy are roughly equally effective; derived from the line in Alice in Wonderland, “Everybody has won and all must have prizes”

Exception Questions - In solution-focused family therapy, a technique whereby therapists ask families to recall situations when the problem was absent or less severe

Fluid Intelligence - The ability to reason when faced with novel problems

Introspection - The process of looking inside the mind for evidence of mental processes or therapeutic change, rejected by behaviorists for its lack of objectivity

Microaggressions - Comments or actions made in a crosscultural context that convey prejudicial, negative, or stereotypical beliefs and may suggest dominance or superiority of one group over another

Negative Punishment - A form of punishment in which the individual “loses something good”

Negative Reinforcement - A form of reinforcement in which the individual “loses something bad”

Neurosis - Along with psychosis, one of the two broad categories of mental illness used in Europe in the 1800s; refers to disorders such as anxiety and depression in which the individual maintains an intact grasp on reality

Overpathologizing - Viewing as abnormal that which is actually normal; can be reduced by increasing cultural competence

Positive Punishment - A form of punishment in which the individual “gets something bad”

Positive Reinforcement - A form of reinforcement in which the individual “gets something good”

Social Support - Relationships with others who can provide support in a time of crisis and who can share in good fortune as well

Source: Clinical Psychology: Science, Practice, and Diversity (5th Edition) by Andrew M. Pomerantz

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[legendaryvermin]

So my home ttrpg group is between longform games right now, and I have been planning to bring a bunch of games to them this weekend as options for what we might play next. However, I have been trying to figure out how to talk about the games in a way that doesn't rely as much on me explaining the vibes to them.

I know that people have a bunch of qualitative categories for how they explain games, but I find the idea of saying things like Dark Fantasy OSR, or Lesbian Goofball PBTA less helpful when talking about how games actually play, especially when two games in the same category are like, wildly different in the way they use their frameworks.

So I invented a 6 axis, 1 to 5 star rating scale for TTRPGs that you are free to borrow when talking to groups, or whatever.

TTRPG 5 Star Rating Matrix

Width

What is the scope of this game? Is it narrowly about one thing or does it encompass many types of play? (Credit to friend of the blog @ostermad-blog for this one, they came up with it from my draft)

Weight

How much cognitive load does the player need to bear? Do rules often need to be referenced verbatim? Can those rules fit on a handout?

Wargame

Is the player expected to apply tactical acumen? Is movement tracked tightly or loosely? Does a bad build punish a player?

Writers Room

How much are players expected to make narrative choices and drive the story without the rules scaffolding them? Does this game fall apart without excellent improvisational storytellers?

(Prep)Work

Does this game require a lot of pre-planning by the facilitator? Are there intricate systems to attend to outside of table play? Can I put in the same amount of time as other players and still have everyone leave happy? 

Whimsy

Expected tone of the game. Does this game have difficult thematic elements baked in? Is the core subject or role in the game high or low risk?

Here are some games I know well and how I calibrated them:

I have breakdowns of what each star rating means below the cut if you're curious. Happy Gaming!

Width

⭐ - As written, the game has basically one mode of play, or one thematic core that it meditates on. May have phases, but textural difference is minimal.

⭐⭐ - As written, there are at least two modes of play, but the scope of that play is highly thematically focused or highly dependent on using the game’s own lore. Might have only one kind of character (e.g. Mech Pilot) that it supports. Has limited tools outside of the primary mode of play.

⭐⭐⭐ - Has a variety of modes of play, but may be rigid in their execution. Might encompass multiple kinds of characters (e.g. Doctor, Lawyer, fighter) or character options. The narratives that this game tells within its setting are narrowed, a three word description tells you what kind of stories it can tell with consistency.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Loose framework, but with some kind of thematic grounding. Describing the framework in 3 words doesn’t tell you the kind of stories that the game tells (e.g. Dark Fantasy, Star Wars Romp). 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- As written, this game is designed in such a way that it doesn’t put specific limits on what sorts of stories that it is meant to tell. It might ask players to define abilities or stats for themselves. The Facilitator is going to pitch a thematic grounding on top of the rules set.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Dialect, Honey Heist Five Star Examples: Fate Core, Savage Worlds, GURPS

Weight

⭐ - It is reasonable for a player to be able to recite the rules from memory. The game may be prompt based, or driven by a flow of rules that are read aloud as played.

⭐⭐ - Players can hold most of the most important information about the game in their heads, with a page or less of rules reference needed to play smoothly. This reference could all fit neatly on the character sheet if one is present.

⭐⭐⭐ - Everything a player needs to know about the game is visible on less than 3 sheets of reference. Players are more or less expected to know exactly how their own abilities work in precise detail, and are unlikely to make a mistake in executing them.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Players make extensive use of multiple reference sheets to keep rules moving smoothly. No external tools are needed, but players memorizing the details of all of their abilities is taxing. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- Players and facilitators will prefer to make extensive use of external tools or reference to keep play moving smoothly. Expecting a player to have the exact details of their abilities memorized is not reasonable.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Stewpot, Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands Five Star Examples: Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Lancer, Edge of the Empire

Wargame

⭐ - As written, this game does not treat combat as mechanically different from any other aspect of play, or does not include narrative violence at all.

⭐⭐ - While players may engage in combat, it is minimally different from regular play. There may be tools or abilities for players to use to conduct a fight, but the texture of those fights is thematic, not mechanical. Narrative and consequence drive the action, not hit points.

⭐⭐⭐ - As written, combat has its own set of rules. This game may have some elements of buildcrafting, but either it is difficult to build something that doesn’t work, or the player may meaningfully invest in other modes of play and still find a commensurate level of satisfaction. If combat occurs, spacing is kept in mind, but is tracked in relative terms (range bands) or highly simplified (zone based combat).

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game has buildcrafting that is somewhat mandatory if players wish to survive a fight, but there is still a meaningful choice in choosing a non-combat role. It may use a grid or a spacing system to help players visualize the combat. Fights are driven by mechanics, not by narrative.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- To enjoy this game, players must spend time buildcrafting. If a player’s build is suboptimal, there may be significant parts of the intended experience that will either feel tedious, or that the player will not have meaningful access to. This game is played on a grid.

One Star Examples: Wanderhome, Dialect, Belonging Outside Belonging Five Star Examples: Lancer, Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Valor

Writers Room

⭐ - Players in this game are not expected to provide much in the way of narrative substance. Story is something that is driven by external input or tools, and players are there to imagine and react. The player need not separate the self from the character they play in any meaningful way.

⭐⭐ - The mechanics of this game drive most of the narrative, or else the narrative is set for the players by an external source or player. Players are encouraged to play optimally rather than dramatically, but do have room for expressing the identity of their character within the game’s mechanical frameworks.

⭐⭐⭐ - While the game does provide strong scaffolding to tell a story, the players present are expected to drive the story within those frameworks. The game’s systems create and resolve conflict on their own, but works best when the players are willing to choose the dramatically interesting option even if it mechanically non-optimal.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The game provides some mechanical tools that create and resolve drama, but there is a significant expectation that the players are buying into and driving the game’s thematic concepts. Players are the ones deciding what the scenes should be and when to end them, but mechanics still help determine outcomes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The players are expected to drive the narrative at all times. Tools for deciding what scenes to do and when to end them are limited, optional, or vague. There is no meaningful scaffolding that creates conflict or resolution, it is incumbent on those present to manifest those things.

One Star Examples: Alice is Missing, Ribbon Drive, For the Queen Five Star Examples: Wanderhome, Systemless RP

(Prep)Work

⭐ - Facilitators are not expected to do work outside the time at the table. All rules can be read while the game is played. No memorization is needed.

⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to have read the rules in advance, but the rules are so few that they can be run from a single reference sheet. At times, the facilitator must think about and potentially advance and adjust the narrative of the game behind the scenes. Prep is qualitative; answering questions about where the narrative is going to go, who will be there etc. The game can be run smoothly predominantly as improv.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to not only know the rules, but to imagine scenarios where the group must play. However, the scope of the scenario design is limited and qualitative. It takes a bit of pondering and perhaps a sketch and a few words of notes. Alternatively, the facilitator must design simple foes or track a simple background system. The work is trivial, and can be done with a bit of time before session.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The facilitator of this game is expected to have run systems between games, or created usable maps or scenarios. Generally, games at this level have some reduced wargaming component. The facilitator might need to engage in enemy design, but the work is limited or imminently reusable. The work is non-trivial, and failing to do it will somewhat impact the quality of play.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The facilitator of this game puts in significant time between sessions engaging in game design activities. They are expected to plan narratives, write NPCs, draw maps, run significant background systems, and design enemies and combat encounters. The work is significant outside of play, and failing to do it beforehand will result in a worse table experience.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Alley-Oop, Lasers and Feelings Five Star Examples: Lancer, D&D 3-5e, Stars Without Number, Edge of the Empire

Whimsy

⭐ - This game’s thematic core is considered dark, taboo, or difficult, and separating the game’s mechanical features from this subject matter is next to impossible. Games with horror elements almost certainly fit within this category. These games encourage extensive pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐ - This game is designed to look at dark subject matter, but doesn’t expect the player to spend all of their time there. Players explore difficult topics, but may get to choose what topics to explore, or when to explore them. Games with political messaging/commentary tend to fit this category. These games encourage pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have dark aesthetics, but doesn’t enforce them mechanically. Alternatively, there are mechanics that address difficult topics in broad strokes, but players are given leeway in the rules with how any difficult topics are approached. These games may encourage safety talks. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have the option to explore dark topics, but none of the mechanics are tied to such topics. This game may have violence in its aesthetics, but players may choose to adjust the aesthetics at the table to suit their comfort. These games tend not to talk about safety in their text.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- This game is designed to focus on thematic material that is considered to be relatively safe. The game is unlikely to tread into violence or trauma without effort.

One Star Examples: Trophy Dark, Dungeon Bitches, Vampire the Masquerade Five Star Examples: Honey Heist, Princess World, Beach Episode

The system here isn't about what's good or bad, to be clear. I think there are good and bad games at every level of these categories, but when I think about what my game group is good at and comfy with, I don't think we go in for things at like the 5 end of the Writers Room scale. It's too much work, and most of them aren't pro improvisers.

Similarly, if we play another game that is a 4 or 5 on the PrepWork category, I don't have time to run it these days. So this helps me make practical choices about our next game.

[missarchive]

cognitive dissonance pt 2 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part one

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! fingering, munch!spencer, oral m. receiving, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie, snowballing, cum eating, lots n lots of praise

word count: 6k

a/n: happy new year beautiful people! part two is here!!! for the moment, I don’t have an upload schedule set up, however, I’m aiming for 1-2 posts per week :)

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Spencer—fourteen days that felt like an eternity. Two weeks of tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that never came, as your mind replayed the details of your last tutoring session with him. It wasn’t just the academic concepts you’d reviewed together that stuck with you. No, it was the way he looked at you, his intense gaze lingering a little too long, and the way his voice softened when he spoke your name. The memory of his touch—gentle but deliberate—refused to fade, haunting your waking moments and creeping into your dreams.

Since then, communication had been sparse. A handful of texts here and there, each one polite, almost painfully casual. The conversations felt hollow, as if the weight of that evening had been neatly tucked away, never to be acknowledged again. You told yourself it made sense—he was a PhD student, after all, drowning in research, teaching, and responsibilities you could only imagine. Still, the silence gnawed at you. It was the kind of quiet that demanded answers you didn’t have, leaving you to fill the void with doubt and endless overthinking.

Was he avoiding you? Regretting what had happened? Maybe it was nothing to him—a fleeting moment he’d already forgotten. The thought made your chest tighten, a painful reminder of how much you cared.

You sighed deeply and flopped onto your bed, the soft glow of your phone screen illuminating your face as you scrolled through your messages. Your thumb hovered over his name, debating whether to text him. It was late—just past 11 p.m.—but sleep wasn’t an option. Your thoughts were too loud, a chaotic symphony of unanswered questions and lingering what-ifs.

And then, as if the universe had been reading your mind, your phone buzzed in your hand. The vibration startled you, and your breath caught as his name appeared on the screen.

Spencer: Still up?

Your heart leapt, the steady rhythm faltering as your pulse quickened. You sat up, gripping your phone tightly, your eyes scanning the words as if they might evaporate. Without letting yourself overthink, you quickly typed a response.

You: Yeah. What’s up?

The three dots appeared almost immediately, a sign that he was typing, and you held your breath. Each passing second felt like an eternity. Finally, his message arrived, and your heart did a little flip.

Spencer: Been thinking about you.

Heat rose to your cheeks, your face flushing as his words sank in. A rush of emotions swirled within you—excitement, nervousness, and an undeniable thrill. You typed back, trying to sound nonchalant, though your hands were trembling.

You: Oh? What about me?

The seconds stretched out again, the anticipation nearly unbearable. When his next message came, it was like a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

Spencer: About how good you looked on your couch.

Your stomach flipped, and your fingers hovered over the keyboard. His words carried a weight that sent shivers down your spine, reigniting memories you’d tried to suppress. Your reply came slower this time, careful but curious.

You: Is that so?

The response came swiftly, almost as if he’d been waiting for your permission to continue.

Spencer: Mmhm. I keep thinking about how soft you felt under my hands. The way you sounded when I touched you.

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. The line between apprehension and exhilaration blurred as you reread his message, your mind spinning with the possibilities of what might come next.

The air in your room felt suddenly stifling, heavy with the weight of anticipation and unspoken words. You had to remind yourself to breathe, each inhale shallow and unsteady. Your chest rose and fell as you glanced around the space, a futile attempt to ground yourself. Even though you were completely alone, a strange self-consciousness washed over you, as if someone might burst through the door and catch you in this intimate moment of vulnerability.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating your next move. Finally, you typed out a response, trying to inject a casual tone that you didn’t quite feel.

You: You’ve been busy, though. I figured you forgot about me.

The reply came almost instantly, faster than you’d anticipated.

Spencer: Forget you? Not possible.

Spencer: In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to show me again… tonight.

Your heart thundered in your chest, each beat loud and insistent, as if it might break free at any moment. You blinked at the screen, rereading his words to make sure you hadn’t imagined them. They weren’t casual; there was no mistaking his intent. His words were deliberate, confident—an invitation as clear as it was thrilling.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you typed, your pulse quickening with every keystroke.

You: Are you serious?

His response was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for your question.

Spencer: I’m already on my way.

Your eyes widened, the breath catching in your throat as you read his message. Time seemed to slow, each second dragging out as your thoughts raced. You glanced around your room, suddenly hyper aware of the clutter—the unmade bed, the pile of laundry in the corner, the books scattered haphazardly on your desk. Panic bubbled beneath the surface as you hurriedly straightened a few things, though you knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling your attention back.

You: What if I said no?

The pause before his reply felt agonizing, but when it came, it wasn’t what you expected.

Spencer: Then I’d turn around and leave you alone. But I don’t think you’re going to say no.

You stared at his message, the certainty in his words stirring something deep within you. He was confident but not presumptuous, giving you an out even as he made it clear he knew where this was heading. For a brief moment, you hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Then, with a shaky exhale, you typed your response.

You: You’re right. Door’s unlocked.

Your phone vibrated again almost instantly, his reply sending a shiver down your spine.

Spencer: Good girl.

The two simple words ignited something in you, a thrill coursing through your veins like wildfire. You set your phone down, your palms damp with sweat as you glanced at the door. The minutes that followed were excruciating, each one dragging on endlessly. The waiting made your nerves fray, anticipation twisting in your stomach like a coiled spring.

Finally, a soft knock broke the silence, sharp and precise. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stood, wiping your hands on your pants to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly as you walked to the door, your breath uneven and shallow.

When you opened it, there he was—Spencer. He stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed but his presence anything but. His eyes found yours immediately, and for a brief moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, as his gaze lingered, a slow, familiar smirk curved his lips. It was the same one that had been haunting your thoughts for weeks, and seeing it now sent a rush of heat through you.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of everything that had gone unsaid.

“Miss me?” Spencer asked, his voice warm with teasing confidence as he stepped inside without waiting for an answer.

He moved with an easy grace, his presence filling the space effortlessly. You closed the door behind him, your heart pounding like a drumbeat in your chest. He lingered by the entrance, his hands still tucked casually into his pockets, but his gaze was anything but idle. It swept over you deliberately, taking in every detail. For a moment, you were certain he could hear the rapid rhythm of your pulse.

“You seem nervous,” he remarked, his tone low and smooth, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a small gesture meant more to ground yourself than to project confidence. “Well, you did show up unannounced,” you replied, aiming for a tone of nonchalance, even as your voice betrayed a slight tremor.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, his expression amused. “True,” he conceded, taking a single, measured step closer. His gaze remained fixed on yours, warm yet intent, as if he were studying you anew, unraveling layers you hadn’t realized were exposed. “But I had a feeling you wouldn’t mind.”

Your cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading over your skin that you couldn’t suppress. Still, you held his gaze, refusing to let him see the full extent of how deeply he affected you. “What gave you that idea?”

Spencer’s smirk deepened, his confidence unwavering. “You unlocked the door.”

The simple truth in his words made your breath catch, but before you could formulate a response, he closed the remaining distance between you. His hands rose with an unhurried confidence, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity in his eyes. His touch was firm yet gentle, grounding yet electrifying, as he tilted your head slightly to ensure your eyes stayed locked on his.

“You don’t need to pretend,” he murmured, his voice softer now, rich with meaning. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, the touch featherlight but potent enough to leave your skin tingling. “I’ve been thinking about you every day since I left.”

The weight of his admission hit you like a wave, stealing your breath and leaving you momentarily speechless. His gaze held yours with such intensity that it felt like he could see right through you, every thought, every doubt laid bare before him.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want this again,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper, the vulnerability in your words hanging between you like a fragile thread.

His lips curved into a smile, softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something genuine, something that made your chest ache. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The tension between you was electric, crackling in the charged silence that followed. Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tug him closer. His lips captured yours with a deliberation that stole your breath, the kiss unhurried but searing, as if he wanted to savor every second.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, the softness giving way to something far more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, each touch igniting a fire that consumed you from the inside out.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his voice husky and filled with awe. His hands roamed over your back, his touch firm yet reverent, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you melted into him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. When his hands dipped lower, gripping your hips with just enough pressure to draw a soft gasp from your lips, he paused, pulling back just enough to search your face. His eyes, dark and filled with longing, studied you intently, his expression a mix of desire and quiet admiration.

“Still okay?” Spencer asked again, his voice calm but edged with a restraint that made your heart race.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gliding down to rest against the firm planes of his chest.

His lips curled into a soft smile as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured, the words low and velvety, sending a shiver down your spine.

He caught the subtle reaction instantly, his smirk deepening with satisfaction. Without breaking eye contact, his hands found your waist and gently guided you backward until your legs brushed the edge of the couch. The soft pressure behind his movements made it impossible to resist as he eased you down, following without hesitation. His body hovered over yours, the closeness making your skin tingle with anticipation.

Spencer’s lips found the delicate curve of your neck, each kiss deliberate, leaving a searing trail of heat in their wake. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your sides. The warmth of his touch made you arch into him instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured against your neck, his voice dripping with admiration. “I missed this.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, but before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, silencing every thought. His kiss was consuming, pulling you into a world where nothing else existed but him. His hands moved with practiced confidence, exploring every inch of you as though rediscovering territory he’d longed for since the last time.

Spencer’s lips left your mouth to trail down your neck again, pressing slow, lingering kisses that made your breath hitch. His hands pushed your shirt higher, sliding it up over your ribs, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that set you alight. He paused as his hands reached just below your bra, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours with a question unspoken.

His lips claimed yours again, this time more demanding, his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your bra, one palm cupping your breast with a touch that was both firm and reverent. The sensation pulled a soft whimper from you, and he smirked against your mouth, clearly pleased with your response.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, deliberate circles. The motion made your body arch into his touch, your breath hitching with every movement. “I could spend hours just figuring out what makes you react like this.”

The weight of his words, heavy with intent, sent a shiver down your spine. Your breath came in shallow gasps as his other hand slid down the curve of your side, his fingers finding your waistband. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for permission.

You nodded quickly, your need for his touch eclipsing any hesitation.

Spencer made quick work of the button and zipper, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers moved with deliberate precision, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made your head fall back against the couch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and mischief. “So perfect.”

His words sent a flush of heat across your cheeks, but the gentle pressure of his fingers chased away any lingering self-consciousness. As he increased his rhythm, a soft cry escaped your lips, and his smirk widened.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice steady and sure. “Let me hear you. I want to know exactly how I’m making you feel.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt as your body responded to every calculated movement of his fingers. His lips returned to your neck, trailing soft kisses and playful nips down to your collarbone. The combination of his touch and his words unraveled you, leaving you at his mercy.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “You’re doing so well for me.”

The praise, his tone, and the intensity of his focus on you pushed you to the edge of control. You felt yourself teetering on the brink, the tension within you building to an overwhelming crescendo.

Spencer seemed to sense it, his movements adjusting with just enough precision to send you over the edge. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, his voice both commanding and reassuring.

“Let go,” he said softly, his words a promise. “I’ve got you.”

With those words, the tension snapped, and your body trembled beneath his touch. A broken cry escaped your lips as waves of pleasure washed over you, each one more intense than the last. Spencer didn’t stop, his touch slowing but remaining steady as he guided you through every peak and valley, his voice a steady stream of soft praise in your ear.

When the last shudder left your body, he stayed close, his hands gentle as they traced soothing patterns along your skin. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips, grounding you with his touch as the aftershocks faded.

“Beautiful girl,” Spencer murmured against your lips, his tone rich with warmth and affection, yet underscored by a quiet, unmistakable pride. His eyes, soft yet intense, held yours as though he wanted to etch this moment into his memory. “My beautiful girl.”

A shaky laugh bubbled out of you, your chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re... very good at that,” you managed, your voice still unsteady but carrying a faint edge of humor.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic, as his lips curled into a teasing smile. “At what?” he asked, the tilt of his head almost boyish, though his tone was anything but. “Tutoring?”

The deliberate smugness in his voice made your cheeks flush anew, the heat spreading over your skin in a way you were sure he noticed. You swatted at his arm, your touch light and devoid of any real intent.

“You know what I mean,” you said, the words soft but tinged with exasperation.

His grin widened, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose brushing against yours in an almost playful gesture. “I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping into a hushed murmur that sent a ripple through you. “But I like hearing you say it.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was fleeting, your amusement quickly giving way to a deeper warmth as his hand slid back up your side. His touch was steady and grounding, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Are you always this confident?” you asked, your voice quieter now, carrying a note of genuine curiosity that you couldn’t quite hide.

Spencer’s expression shifted subtly, the teasing edge softening as something more earnest took its place. His gaze swept over your face, lingering as though he was memorizing every detail. “Not always,” he admitted, his hand moving to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “But with you… it feels natural.”

The sincerity in his words struck a chord deep within you, and before you could think better of it, you leaned into his touch, your body responding instinctively to the safety and reassurance he offered. “I’ve never…” you started, your voice faltering as you searched for the right words. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened slightly at your admission, a flicker of something possessive and raw flashing behind his gaze. His thumb drifted to your bottom lip, brushing against it with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

“Good,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. “Because I don’t want to share you.”

The intensity of his words left you momentarily speechless, your thoughts scattered as his gaze locked onto yours, unwavering and full of intent. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken promises.

Before you could summon a reply, Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was achingly slow and deliberate. His movements were measured, as though savoring every moment, his lips moving against yours with a precision that felt both practiced and deeply personal.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His touch was firm yet gentle, his presence an anchor as your emotions swirled around you like a storm.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breath mingled with yours in the quiet space between you. His eyes searched yours, as though seeking reassurance that you felt it too—that connection, undeniable and electric.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Your chest tightened at his words, a flood of warmth spreading through you as you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

"Spence," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle caress as your fingers reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The intimate gesture made his eyes flutter briefly, his expression softening as he focused on you.

"I want to try something," you continued, your voice laced with both anticipation and nervous energy.

"Mm, what's that?" he asked, his voice low and velvety, his eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You felt a smile tug at your lips, a warmth blooming in your chest as you leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against his lips. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Will you let me?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his analytical mind clearly at work as he tried to piece together what you meant. His hesitation wasn’t reluctance, just the natural curiosity that came with him wanting to understand.

“Of course,” he said finally, his voice soft yet steady, carrying an underlying trust that made your heart flutter. “Anything you want.”

A grin spread across your face, uncontainable in its sincerity, and you pressed another kiss to his jaw before moving with deliberate purpose. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly sank to your knees before him, your hands already reaching for the button of his jeans.

The shift in his expression was immediate—surprise flickering across his face before it quickly gave way to understanding. His pupils dilated, his lips parting as anticipation replaced his initial confusion.

“Oh,” he breathed, the word barely audible but thick with desire. “Yes, please.”

You didn’t respond verbally, letting your actions speak for you as your fingers deftly unfastened the button and slid down the zipper of his jeans. The fabric parted easily, and you guided it down his hips, revealing the outline of his already hard length straining against the material of his boxers.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against the bulge. The sharp intake of breath he let out was all the encouragement you needed.

“Fuck,” Spencer hissed, his voice strained, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or let you take the lead.

Your grin widened at his reaction, a heady sense of satisfaction coursing through you as your hands traveled down to tug his boxers lower. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, and the sight sent a thrill through you.

Though you’d seen him countless times before, this felt different—more intimate, more charged. The proximity, the quiet hum of electricity between you, made your pulse quicken with anticipation.

Glancing up, you caught Spencer’s gaze, holding it as you wrapped a hand around his length. Your touch was light at first, tentative yet deliberate, and his groan in response sent a shiver down your spine.

His head tipped back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forced them open again, clearly unwilling to lose the connection between you. The way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the slight clench of his jaw as you stroked him—it was intoxicating.

You tightened your grip slightly, your strokes becoming more deliberate as you watched his expression shift. His breathing grew heavier, his hips beginning to rock forward in time with your movements.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, his words barely audible over the sound of his own labored breathing.

You didn’t stop, your hand working in steady, measured strokes as you reveled in every sound, every reaction you drew from him. The way his lips parted, the slight hitch in his breath when your thumb brushed over the sensitive head—it all spurred you on, filling you with a sense of power and connection unlike anything else.

Spencer’s hand finally found its way to your cheek, his touch featherlight as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw. When his gaze met yours again, there was a vulnerability in his expression, an unspoken gratitude that made your heart swell.

"Fuck, angel," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "That feels so good."

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. He tasted salty and musky, a hint of bitterness lingering on your tongue.

Spencer let out a strangled gasp, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You couldn't help but grin, taking more of him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip.

"Shit," he swore, his voice ragged.

You hummed around him, the vibrations causing his hips to buck again.

"God, you're so good," he praised, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging gently.

The words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you moaned, the sound muffled around his cock. You continued working him with your mouth and hand, relishing in the sounds he made, the way his body reacted to your touch.

He was close, you could tell. His breathing was labored, his hips rocking steadily now, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"Baby, I'm—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he came, spilling down your throat, his body shuddering with pleasure.

You swallowed him down, licking him clean as he shuddered through the aftershocks. You pulled away, pressing a soft kiss against his hipbone before looking up, your expression showing a hint of shyness.

"Was that okay?" you asked, your voice soft.

"More than okay," he assured you, his gaze heated. "That was amazing."

You couldn't help the swell of pride that filled your chest, and you rose to your feet, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips. He sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, his body still trembling slightly.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice laced with adoration.

You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading through your entire body.

"I love you too," you replied, leaning into his embrace.

In that moment, you knew that there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Spencer wasted no time, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses and bites in their wake. His hands wandered up and down your body, mapping every curve and dip, until finally, his fingers reached the hem of your shirt.

"Can I?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

"God, yes," you gasped, arching into his touch.

He grinned, his fingers moving quickly to unbutton your shirt, exposing the thin lace bra underneath. His eyes darkened, his gaze hungry as he took in the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, more to himself than anything, his voice soft with admiration.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words affecting you more than you expected. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting along the top of your breasts, before pressing a trail of kisses along the exposed skin.

"Spence," you whined, squirming beneath his touch. "Please."

He chuckled, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing the lace-covered nipples. You gasped, arching into his touch as the sensation sent sparks of pleasure through you.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured you, his voice low and husky. "We have all the time in the world."

The reminder of how much time you actually had set your mind at ease, and you relaxed into his touch, letting him explore your body at his own pace.

His lips continued their journey down your torso, tracing along the waistband of your panties until finally, he was kneeling between your legs, his fingers hooked into the fabric.

"Lift up," he instructed, his gaze meeting yours.

You obeyed, your hips rising off the desk so he could slide your skirt down, along with your underwear. He tossed them aside, his gaze roaming over you, his expression a mixture of hunger and admiration.

"Such a pretty little pussy," he breathed, his voice rough with desire.

You blushed, the praise causing a warmth to bloom deep in your chest.

"Spence, please," you pleaded, desperate for him to touch you.

He grinned, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh.

"I've got you, sweet girl," he assured you, his words a promise. "Just relax for me."

He moved his lips higher, placing a soft kiss against your folds, before finally, his tongue swiped across your clit, causing you to gasp and buck against him. He gripped your hips, holding you steady as he continued licking and sucking, teasing your clit and working you open.

You couldn't stop the cries that fell from your lips, his touch setting you on fire. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and guiding him closer, as if you couldn't get enough of him.

He moaned against you, the vibration sending shivers through your entire body. You arched into him, your hips rocking against his mouth, seeking more friction.

"Fuck, Spencer," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, before plunging his tongue into you, the sensation causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"So good," he murmured, his words muffled by the way his tongue was moving inside you. "So sweet."

You felt the pressure building deep inside you, the tension coiling tighter with each flick of his tongue, every brush of his fingers against your clit.

"Spence, I'm gonna—"

Before you could finish the sentence, the tension snapped, and you came undone, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, until finally, you slumped back against the desk, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer pulled away, pressing a soft kiss against your hip bone, before standing and gazing down at you.

"You're gorgeous when you cum," he murmured, his tone filled with adoration.

You laughed, the sound breathless, and tugged him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What about you?" you asked, your voice laced with concern. "Do you need—"

Spencer's lips were like fire against your skin, trailing a path of soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you, the sound eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Is there something you want?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"You," you gasped, your hips bucking against him, desperate for friction.

He grinned, his hands moving to grasp your hips, holding you still. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice teasing. "I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

You couldn't help but smile, loving the playful side of him that only came out during these moments.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your tone.

His eyes flashed with amusement, his gaze never leaving yours as his fingers brushed against your core, slipping between your folds.

You moaned, the sound filling the air around you, and Spencer's lips curved into a smug grin.

"God, you're so wet for me," he murmured, his tone filled with satisfaction. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Spencer’s words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, his deep, measured tone setting every nerve alight. His hands trailed along your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as he settled himself between your legs.

“I think I have an idea,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to match his playful tone, though the anticipation thrumming through you made it difficult to stay composed.

He chuckled, low and rich, the sound vibrating through you as he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck. His lips brushed against your skin with agonizing precision, leaving you gasping for more. “You’re so impatient,” he murmured, his words soft but teasing. “I love it.”

“Spencer,” you pleaded, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to press closer. “Please.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with intent. “Please, what?” he asked softly, his voice laced with a smugness that only made your cheeks burn hotter.

“You,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need you.”

His lips curved into a small, approving smile, and he reached down, unbuckling his belt with a confidence that made your heart race. “Good girl,” he murmured, his praise making your body respond instinctively, your hips shifting toward him in anticipation.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he adjusted himself, his length brushing against your entrance in a way that made you gasp.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his tone soft but edged with something darker, more commanding.

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands sliding to his back, desperate for more of his touch. “Please.”

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed inside, the stretch leaving you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he filled you completely, his movements precise yet measured.

“God,” he groaned, his voice unsteady as he paused, giving you a moment to adjust. “You feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t form words, your mind overwhelmed by the sensation of him, the way he fit perfectly against you. Instead, you let out a soft moan, your body arching into his as you clung to him.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he began to move. His thrusts were slow and deliberate at first, each one calculated to make you feel every inch of him.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to keep up with his pace.

He grinned against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s it,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Let me hear you.”

His words only heightened the sensations, the tension building in your core with every movement. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts as he buried himself deeper with each motion.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with reverence. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his gaze, the rhythm of his body, the sound of his praise—it was all too much, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Cum for me, sweet girl,” he said softly, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both commanding and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

His words were the final push you needed, and you shattered beneath him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Spencer’s movements didn’t falter, his pace steady as he guided you through your release, his own groan of satisfaction filling the air as he followed you over the edge.

When you finally came back down, your body spent and your breathing uneven, Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Body moving back down your body to rest between your legs once more. “I can’t- Spence…” Your hands reach down to grip onto his hair instinctively.

He immediately presses a kiss to your inner thigh, thumbs smoothing over your swollen pussy lips. “Shh, pretty girl. I won’t, I’m just looking. Will you let me, hm?” You whine slightly but nod nonetheless, completely entranced.

Gentle hands squeeze at your flesh and spread you open, folds parting to show the slick, milky trail of cum leaking out from your hole. Leaning down to press one final kiss to your clit, he glides his tongue up through your cunt, collecting it all on his tongue before claiming your lips back in a kiss and forcing his cum inside your own mouth.

You moan into his mouth, his arms now wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “I don’t ever want to forget how you taste.”

You smiled against his chest, your cheeks still flushed as you murmured, “I won’t say no to that.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting, and for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

[birdofmay]

In that vein... (No, the following is not about autism or ADHD)

TL;DR: Using medical terms as insults or otherwise misusing medical terms (even as a joke) leads to uninformed people thinking they have to stop saying these words and creating new words. Either because they think the old term isn't precise enough anymore or because they incorrectly think that we're insulted by the old word.

The constant appearance of new words is confusing to people who struggle to learn new words. It excludes them from participating in discussions about their own condition.

We have to be more sensitive regarding possible repercussions and stop unnecessary discourse by uninformed people.

In Germany, the official word for my disability ID card category and the assessment is "Hirnschädigung", which literally translates to brain damage/damaged brain. And that's a neutral description, nothing outdated.

But many many people have been asking if someone has brain damage whenever they wanted to insult someone who is either slow on the uptake or who just made a very strange or silly suggestion, for example. They used it as an insult all the time, sometimes jokingly, sometimes not.

This is why now a lot of people ask "Uh, can we still say that in the 21st century? Shouldn't we change "brain damage" to something nicer? Isn't that word insulting?" when actually no, it isn't. (Of course you still shouldn't use that term if someone directly tells you they don't want to be called that)

It's the same with "disabled". People used and still use "disabled" and "dumb" synonymously in Germany. So now, well-meaning politicians and even advocates create all kinds of euphemisms because they think that disabled people will be offended by the word "disabled". Because some people use it as an insult.

When I say I'm disabled in German ("behindert"), people flinch. They think I just insulted myself. But no, "behindert" is a normal medical word, it's in the name of our disability ID card. Even more, the literal translation is "severely disabled person's pass", there's a "severe" accompanying the word "disabled". They flinch even more when I say I'm severely disabled.

"Disorder" has a negative connotation because it's been used as an insult. "Disabled" has a negative connotation because it's been used as an insult. People mixed up schizophrenia and DID and now many think that "feeling schizophrenic" is a sophisticated way to say that you feel conflicted.

The pattern is always the same: People use normal medical words either as insults or in an unrelated, non-medical way, and as a result well-meaning but uninformed advocates create "nicer" sounding words because they think the original word is either outdated or offensive. Or they think "Now that everyone misuses it, we need a new word for the medical term so that there are no misunderstandings."

In both cases, "our" words were successfully co-opted and we have to learn 10 new words to know that people talk about our conditions.

Unfortunately, not everyone sees 10 new words for their condition and intuitively picks up the meaning and knows what everyone's talking about. Sometimes words are hard. Sometimes it's hard to learn all these words and then be told by some uninformed activist that we shouldn't call ourselves what we've always called ourselves.

And what kind of people sometimes struggle with learning new words? People with cognitive impairments. People with brain damage. People who had a stroke. People who survived a ruptured aneurysm.

If you hear "Please stop saying you have a stroke or an aneurysm", etc., did it ever occur to you that maybe it's not because we're offended, but because we don't want these words to get negative connotations? Whenever something gets a negative connotation, there's a possibility for it to be seen as a slur and that would lead to 10 new words to learn because uninformed activists think the original term is offensive or not precise enough.

When I say "Hey, please stop saying you have a stroke when you don't understand something", I'm not offended and I'm not saying it's ableist. I've just noticed enough patterns to be quite sure that at some point there'll be an uninformed well-meaning advocate who suggests a new word for stroke survivors because they think the old word isn't precise enough anymore.

And I don't know if there are enough stroke survivors on social media who could stop this new word and mindset from reaching other uninformed advocate spaces...