#exercise selection

[teame4e]

Maximize Your Weight Training with ChatGPT: A Comprehensive Guide to Effective Plans

Weight training is highly effective for improving strength, building muscle, and enhancing overall fitness. To help you optimize your workouts, ChatGPT offers valuable insights and guidance. In this article, we will explore how to best utilize ChatGPT to create a weight training plan, with a focus on the popular 5×5 plan and a push and pull plan. Let’s delve into the details and unlock the…

[immabebaby]

just created the dumbest unlikeliest possible most hilarious scenario with my sister

Ft. Knockout and Ratchet

They're playing uno dare

Why? Idk they are, maybe the need to "bond as a team" cuz they're medics or whatever

also they're drunk

Anyways

This leads to uhh situations

Such as

Knock Out crying at the start bc of Breakdown being gone (Ratchet was being unhelpful, low-key his fault but it's fine he fixed it)

Neither is flexible for shit (it was a dare over whatever)

Ratchet made Knock out believe he doesn't know what's a drive in theater

("You drove thru a theater?!" "No there's this big screen in a parking lot-" "oh so you drove thru a parking lot at a movie theater" "NO!")

Talked about certain blue partners that they don't have anymore that they miss. They will never talk about this again

Knock out can't do push ups. He tried.

("Where'd you learn what those are" "some guy did them in a movie" "so do you drive through a different theater or do you bully the same one each time" "Oh for Primus Sake!")

(I miss Breakie)

Ratchet did a back flip. It was not related to the dare. He was not able to do it again

Ratchet was dared to spin and then walk in a straight line. He walked perfectly, but on his way back to his seat he tripped and sprawled out

Reminiscing about cybertron before the war

Ratchet won after a long game, Knock Out had like 20 cards

Agreed to play again later

Both passed out on top of each other and later found by Bee, who didn't tell them anything and kept everyone else away (bro took a pic)

Ratchet absolutely has pictures of what they got up to... for blackmail of course

[chicago-geniza]

Today our manager asked for our favorite picture books and I said I liked the book of illustrated maps with natural and cultural features of each country, called Maps, that was translated from Polish and written/illustrated by a husband/wife team. Everyone was like "that tracks"

[dykemd]

Hi Bea, my wife wants to start working out and gaining muscle mass but she has no idea where to start... so much workout content on YouTube is either aggressive guys or yoga for weight loss. Do you have any tips?? Love your blog 💖💗

for some serious muscle gain the first thing she should do is find a split that works for her. there are 1837288282 splits out there but for beginners she should consider either push/pull/legs or upper/lower body theyre classics for a reason. that out of the way, it’s all about coming up w a exercise selection n sticking to it! dont go changing what u do every workout — i literally do the exact same thing week in week out. it’s the best way for tracking ur progress n making sure ure increasing weight or reps every session. also make sure to not choose weight over form thats a quick way to injury n it’s absolutely not worth it!! other than that she needs to just be patient, it’s a long game but if she eats n works out enough she should be seeing those newbie gains pretty soon at least 🙏🏽💪🏽

[rooksunday]

Rules: without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite films, then tag ten people to do the same.

tagged by @mereelskirata ty! i'm not sure who hasn't been tagged yet - tell me your secrets!

[jcsmicasereports]

Physiological Effects Of Single Bout Of Moderate And High Intensity Interval Exercise On Selective Attention In Young Adults by Farida ahmad in Journal of Clinical Case Reports Medical Images and Health Sciences

Abstract

Objectives: The primary objective of the study was to determine the effect of moderate intensity exercise and high intensity interval exercise on selective attention.

Methodology: This experimental study was conducted at Khyber Girls Medical College Peshawar from September 2020 to February 2021. A total 34 young adults were recruited who were called for two experimental sessions. During 1st experimental session, participants performed moderate intensity exercise of 15 minutes. Forward digit span test were done both before and after exercise. They were then called after one week for 2nd experimental session. Same steps were carried out but this time they performed high intensity interval exercise. The High intensity interval exercise consisted of one minute of low intensity alternating with one minute of high intensity exercise.

Results: The mean age of participants was 20 ± 2 years, body mass index (BMI) was 23 ± 4 kg/m2 and mean waist hip ratio was 0.81± 0.05. After 15 minutes of high intensity interval exercise, selective attention was significantly improved (P = 0.001).

Conclusions:  A single session of High intensity interval exercise was more effective at improving selective attention as compared to moderate exercise.

Key words: High intensity interval exercise, Selective attention, Young adults.

Introduction

Physical exercise (PE) is defined as “ a subset of physical activity that is planned, structured, and repetitive and has as a final or an intermediate objective of  improving or maintaining physical fitness” [1]. There are different types of PE, exercise performed at 50 - 63 %, 64 -76 % and 77 – 95% %   of heart rate maximum (HR max) are termed  low, moderate and high intensity exercises respectively. High intensity exercise has been further classified as continuous,  high intensity interval training (HIIT) and sprint interval training [2]. HIIT is a type of exercise characterized by short bouts of high intensity exercise alternating with same duration of rest or lower level of physical exercise [2]. Though PE positively affects selective attention and subsequently memory but unfortunately most of our population is not sufficiently active. A World Health Organization survey shows that 23% of males and 32% of females worldwide do not engage in enough physical activity; only 5% of the adult population worldwide meets the basic recommendations of physical exercise [3]. The situation is even worse in Pakistan, 24.4% males and 43.3% females are not sufficiently active. They consider lack of time, use of internet, cell phones and computers  as causes for noncompliance to exercise and sedentary behavior [4, 5]. Luckily HIIT  is less time consuming as compared to continuous moderate exercise and is preferred by most people [6-8]. It has recently emerged as an effective exercise paradigm for brain health [9]. The main advantage of HIIT is that it provides strong stimulus for neuronal growth. HIIT is especially beneficial for controlling attention and filtering out unnecessary information when performing any cognitive task[10]. However there are few studies on the effects of HIIT on selective attention.The effects of HIIT on brain health still need to be explored [11, 12]. Our study aims to add to the existing body of evidence by determining the effects of HIIT on selective attention in young adults.

Selective attention permits us to filter out insignificant information and focus on what matters. It also forms the basis for learning of complex material [13]. Unfortunately most of our young adults lose attention within 10 – 20 minutes after the start of a cognitive task[14]. The  importance of phonological loop and attention  in classroom teaching cannot be underestimated [15, 16]. Moreover it is equally important etiological factor in patients with attention deficit disorders, obsessive compulsive disorders, Alzheimer’s disease and Parkinson disease [17-19]. The amount of attention we pay to a task is controlled by central executive in the frontal lobe of the brain which also has the capability to access long term memory stores so by controlling attention one can enhance memory as well[20].

There are different ways to improve attention and subsequently memory for example environmental modifications, attention process training, self‐regulatory strategies, use of external aids  and psychosocial support in adults with attention deficit disorder [21].  In addition , physical exercise is known to improve attention both in healthy and attention deficit population [22, 23].

MATERIALS AND METHODS

This experimental study was carried at the Department of Physiology, Khyber Girls Medical College Peshawar. For the within subject design, sample size was calculated by power analysis and effect size based on previous results of Labban et al.,[24]. Power analysis was calculated by using effect size of 0.50. A sample of 34 participants was enough to get power of .80.  After approval from ethical committee of Khyber medical university volunteers were recruited through personal contacts, notices and circulars. Young adult females age 18 – 25, were selected who had no history of psychiatric illnesses, psychiatric medications, smoking, neurological and musculoskeletal disorders. All of them fulfilled the exercise fitness criteria as assessed through physical activity readiness questionnaire [25].

After informed consent, anthropometric measurements of all the participants were taken such as weight, height, waist circumference and hip circumference.  Low, Moderate and high intensity of exercise was determined for each individual according to their age. First Maximum heart rate (HR max) was calculated for each individual by the formula 220 – age[26]. Exercise performed at 50 -63 %, 64 -76 % and 77 – 95% %  of HRmax was their low, moderate and high intensity levels respectively.  High intensity interval exercise comprised of  one minute high intensity exercise alternating with same duration low intensity exercise [2]. BMI was calculated by Quetelet’ s formula(weight in Kg/height in meter square [27]. Adopting a within subject design, participants were asked to come for two experimental sessions. Participants were asked to refrain from tea and other caffeinated drinks 24 hours prior to experiment. On first experimental day pre exercise selective attention was assessed through Forward Digit span Test (FDST) which is used extensively throughout clinical and research studies and has high validity and reliability among healthy adults and is a subset of Wechsler’s adult intelligent scale [28]. After this test participant were asked to perform 15 minutes of moderate exercise on tread mill (American Fitness, LK700T CORE) according to their individual levels calculated previously. We were closely monitoring the participants to keep their heart rate within the target ranges of moderate exercise. The subjects were assessed within 5 minutes of finishing exercise for selective attention again through digit span forward test. They were then called after one week for experimental session two. The same steps were carried out but this time they performed high intensity interval exercise for 15 minutes.

RESULTS

The mean age for participants in years was 20 ± 1 SD, mean BMI 23 ± 4 (kg/m2) and mean waist hip circumference ratio was 0.81± 0.05. The average Heart rate of the participants for moderate exercise was between 122 and 152 beats per minute, for high intensity most achieved heart rate of 153 to 190 beats per minute. Data was analyzed by SPSS version 20.  Statistical significance was considered at P < 0.05. Shapiro wilk test was used to check the normality of data. Wilcoxon signed rank test for serum FDST showed a positive significant change z = - 1.422, p = .15 with a small effect size (r = .1) and z = - 3.182, p = .001 with a medium effect size (r = .4) for MIE and HIIE respectively.

Forward Digit Span Test Scores before and after exercise FDST = Forward digit span test, M1=before moderate exercise, M2= after moderate exercise, H1= before high intensity interval exercise, H2 =after high intensity interval exercise

Discussion

The objective of this study was to assess the effects of an acute HIT session on one aspect of cognitive function i.e. selective attention in young adults. We used digit span forward test (FDST) to assess selective attention. Moderate exercise did not affect attention while HIIT had a significant effect on selective attention. Mean forward digit span test scores before moderate exercise were 8.41 ± 2 and post exercise they were 8.86 ± 2 (P = 0.15). However HIIT had a significant effect on attention with mean FDST of 8.86 ± 1 and 9.86 ± 1 before and after exercise respectively (P = 0.001).

Results from previous research support our findings. There are several studies demonstrating a positive effect of HIIT on cognition and attention as measured by Victoria Stroop test, Reaction Time test and digit span tests [10, 29, 30]. Walsh et al., 2018 recruited 22 university students, nineteen of the participants were females aged 20 ± 1 year. They were called for two sessions; a HIIT and control visit on separate days. The HIIE session lasted for 11 minutes. Participants completed the d2 test which is another test for measuring selective attention [31]. Effect size analysis revealed a moderate effect size of 0.459 in favor of HIIE  with a P = 0.01 [32]. Our effect size was 0.486 and P = 0.001. Another study done at the university of Boston is also in line with our findings who checked inhibitory control, selective attention and declarative memory [10].However Study by Alves et al., 2014 does not match with our findings. They used both Stroop color word test FDST and concluded that HIIT improved the performance in Stroop color word test (P = 0.02) after performing 15 minutes of HIIT on cycle ergometer but no significant effect on FDST which may be attributed to the older age group that they recruited for their experiment  i.e. 53 years [33].

Another study by Kao et al demonstrated that HIIT was more beneficial at inhibitory control as assessed by modified flanker task in young adult males and females [10]. A study carried out in children 8 – 10 years of age, also report significant effect after HIIE. Stroop performance was improved after one  minute after ( P < 0.01), and improvements were maintained until 30 min after exercise cessation [34].

Tsukamoto recruited 10 males and used felt arousal scale (FAS) to assess arousal level and color word Stroop task for measuring attention and found significant increase after HIIE [35].

Previously it was thought that intensity affects cognition in a U shaped manner, meaning that if we continue to increase the intensity of exercise from low to moderate, cognition will improve but after a high intensity is reached cognition will deteriorate [36]. On the contrary, our and other recent research do not support this hypothesis [33]. In our study the high intensity exercise improved selective attention as compared to moderate exercise. Possible explanation for improved attention can be attributed to psychophysiological mechanisms such as improved cerebral blood flow which provides brain sufficient amount of glucose and oxygen and improved psychological wellbeing [11, 37].

It is also suggested that there is increased levels of epinephrine and nor epinephrine which leads to more  arousal and subsequently increased attention [38] .Following exercise there is increased allocation of attention resources [32]. When a person is engaged in any information processing operations involving encoding and decision making he uses attention resources to complete this information processing. Human beings select a limited amount of sensory input to process the information while neglect other unrelated sensory inputs through attention resource allocation [39].

CONCLUSION

Our study validated the previous results and showed that even a single bout of 15 minutes of HIIT improves selective attention and it is more effective as compared to moderate exercise of same duration.

[clowndensation]

i was kicking up a fuss but cylinders are not that hard actually. especially because i don't have to shade the ground for them yet, and also i don't actually have to make the lines straight #drawinghacks

[adulthumanproblem]

YES YES YES I've switched learning Japanese to Busuu and it's SO GOODDDDD They actually EXPLAIN stuff and actively try to help you remember. Duolingo just has you repeat stuff without teaching you anything (honestly, the lesson notes are next to useless and not integrated into the lesson at all)

after the news about duolingo shifting to AI generated translations and only using human staff to check that the translations were bare minimum “acceptable” I switched my german lessons to busuu and I’ve only been doing it a month but it already feels like a more helpful interface. there’s typically way more german text onscreen than there is english (e.g. the headers and lesson instructions being in german), they use more complex compound words that start becoming recognizable in context, they give WAY more detailed explanations of grammar rules, and occasionally there’s a written short answer you submit to get feedback from other real users who are fluent. I don’t think they offer as wide a range of languages but if anyone is looking to jump ship from duolingo I’d recommend checking them out

[writingfromruins]

we miss you come back

Thank you

I’ve missed this blog too, but most of the poetry i’ve been writing lately has had to go towards other ends these last few years. I’ve been meaning to come back home to here, but just haven’t had the time to dedicate to it.

Until now.

Mind the space, new things (grown from the bones of the old) are coming ;)

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA Usa Today di Oggi lunedì, 05 maggio 2025

[freshthoughts2020]

[omg-erika]

The Osteoporosis Hoax

by Dr.Harald Wiesendanger– Klartext What the mainstream media is hiding One in five women over 50 already have osteoporosis – their bone density has decreased dangerously, and there is a risk of fractures. However, conventional treatment only reliably benefits pharmaceutical companies, doctors’ practices, and clinics, and it often worsens the situation of those affected. Simple measures could…

[lavender-lady-777]

"The Bride" not having a name outside of her relation to a man she wants nothing to do with. Her body being constantly objectified and sexualized before she was even conceived. Her face, her torso, even each of her individual, rotting limbs being carefully selected to fit the sexual preferences of an absolute stranger. Her skull being beaten in and manhandled during a man's jealous outburst, her head rolling to the ground like an inanimate object. The story of Marilyn Monroe's body. The way women cannot rest even in death.

The constant expectation of who The Bride will be before she even is. The way patriarchal societies buy pink onesies and Barbie cribs and headbands with bows before a baby is even born. The stain of forever being "just" a woman. The way this mirrors Eric's flowers, the way he love-bombs her and lays ownership to her before she's even developed consciousness.

The way Eric insists that his bride doesn't need to develop basic language skills or even a rudimentary understanding of the world around her, because her education doesn't directly benefit him. The way he was created to usher in a new era of scientific discovery for mankind, while she was created only to please him. The Biblical story of Eve being carved from Adam's rib. The way organized religion trains women to believe that their only use lies in being obedient and subservient to the men around them.

The Bride being continuously punished for her sexual awakening, for any exercise of her own autonomy or free will. The way the only “love” she has ever known was brutally murdered because she refused to cater to the expectations of the men around her, because she denied the title that was thrust upon her at birth. The way that men have always done this to women— labeling us as "jezebels" or "harlots" or "whores" or "bitches" or "sluts" for refusing to fall into a role we never consented to performing.

And, of course, the fact that Eric continues to feel entitled to her body even after she tells him no in every conceivable way. "Why won't she let me touch her?!" The parallels between his behavior and that of so many incels who believe that women exist solely to serve their purposes. "She is to love me!" The way that, after losing her, he spends his time partying on yachts with models and playgirls, because that's all women are to him... just pretty objects. The way he bastardizes the word "love" because he's never taken the time to know or love her, not really.

The inherent trauma of her birth and nature— the way the horrorshow of her creation reflects the unspoken horror of every woman's creation. "She is but a cluster of fear and not knowing."

Ohhhhh Mary Shelley I fear you would love this show...

[ds-angel1]

TEACHERS LITTLE PET

cw: SMUT(18+), teacher x student relationship, hitting it from the back(in the classroom), big age gap(ages aren´t specified), reader is a senior, i´m not american and have no idea how the school system works so please just smile and nod

wc: ~ 5.1k

a/n: tell me what you think of this dynamic and if you want more cause i have some ideas!! also this is the longest fic i´ve ever written, not my best work but atleast i managed to write something?? keep in mind i had a fever when i wrote this

Rafe had no idea how he ended up here.

Well, if he was being honest, he did. He just hated admitting it.

He hated kids. Teenagers weren’t much better. If they weren’t whining about something trivial, they were loud, obnoxious, and bursting with opinions they thought were groundbreaking. And high schoolers? They were the worst of the lot, caught in that unbearable limbo between childhood and adulthood, convinced they knew everything and that the world had been tailor-made to inconvenience them.

He hated his job, too. But after his father had all but shoved him into college, and he had somehow managed to scrape together an art history degree through a chaotic jumble of barely thought-out course selections, he needed a paycheck. He needed something, anything, to make use of the four years he had spent drowning in essays about the Renaissance and lectures on the symbolism of Baroque architecture.

And there it was, a high school history teacher.

He was fairly certain the school had been desperate. Desperate enough to hire the first applicant who could string a coherent sentence together about the American Revolution. And lucky him, that applicant had been Rafe.

The school itself was unremarkable. Small, under 400 students, just two squat brick buildings separated by a weather-beaten schoolyard that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and teenage apathy. Five hours from the Outer Banks, he could visit home whenever he wanted. Not that he did. There was nothing left for him there, nothing worth the drive, and frankly, there was nothing for him here either.

His days were a loop, a monotonous, uninspired cycle of standing in front of rows of disinterested, hormonal teenagers, rattling off lessons about long-dead historical figures far more interesting than any of his students would ever bother to realize. He graded half-assed essays, endured halfhearted excuses about missing assignments, and spent more time than he cared to admit staring at the clock, willing the hours to pass. Then, when the final bell rang, he trudged back to his apartment, a bare, impersonal space that he never bothered to decorate. No photos, no art, and no signs that anyone lived there. Just a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table that mostly went unused.

And then there were the truly miserable days, the ones where he was roped into subbing for freshman P.E., a biweekly exercise in self-inflicted torture. Half the girls refused to break a sweat, acting as if running a single lap would somehow lead to their untimely demise. The other half of the class consisted of cocky, over-competitive boys who treated dodgeball like a blood sport. He spent most of those periods standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, blowing the whistle when things got too heated, and watching the clock even more desperately than usual.

It was a dull, uninspired existence; monotonous, predictable, and entirely void of passion. He lived his life the way his students listened to the outdated documentaries he played in class: half-awake, uninterested, just going through the motions because it had to be done.

Until you walked into his class.

The first day of school after summer break always carried a certain energy; electric, restless, filled with voices overlapping in an unfiltered rush of stories from the last few weeks. As Rafe pushed open the door to his classroom, that familiar wave of chatter hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Laughter, exclamations, the scrape of chairs against the floor—it was all as chaotic as he had expected.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way to his desk, setting his thermos down on the bleached oak surface before picking it up again almost instinctively, taking a slow sip before returning it to its place. His fingers moved on autopilot, retrieving his school-issued laptop from his bag, pressing the power button, and waiting for the screen to glow to life. His gaze lifted, sweeping across the students, his students. The same faces he’d taught last year, now a little older, a little different, officially juniors.

But one face wasn’t familiar.

You.

Rafe spotted you almost immediately, sitting in the third row, right by the window where the morning sky stretched in endless hues of soft blue. You were listening—well, nodding, at least—to Amanda, whose mouth moved a mile a minute. He didn’t have to hear her know she was spewing an endless stream of conversation; Amanda was known for filling any silence, anytime, anywhere. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was on you.

A dark navy skirt draped over your thighs, the fabric shifting in gentle waves with every slight movement. Your top, a delicate white spaghetti strap with tiny baby blue flowers, hugged your frame, lace tracing the neckline, a small bow nestled right at its center. A beige cardigan hung loosely over your shoulders, two buttons left undone as if they had never been intended for use in the first place. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, not rigid, not loose, just… effortless. A few strands framed your face, soft wisps that moved when you turned your head, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost ethereal.

And sure, you looked beautiful, undeniably so. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way your eyes flickered around the room, quietly observing, absorbing. The way your lips parted slightly every so often, murmuring the occasional “Uh-huh” or “Yeah” in response to Amanda’s nonstop chatter, even as your mind seemed elsewhere. There was something in your expression, an almost hesitant curiosity, a quiet awareness, that made Rafe’s fingers pause over the laptop’s keyboard.

He had seen many faces in this classroom. Some familiar, some forgettable.

But yours?

Yours was impossible to ignore.

"Uh— okay, let’s get started. Settle down," Rafe called out to the students, his voice steady despite the chaos. The room buzzed with post-summer chatter, desks scraping against the floor as students found their seats. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to exhale. The first day back was always like this, full of energy, distractions, and the struggle to rein everyone in. But today, there was another battle brewing beneath the surface, one he wasn’t prepared for.

He hoped that once the lesson began, he could shift his focus, and force himself to look anywhere but at you. He clung to that hope like a lifeline, but the moment he commanded their attention, he had yours.

And when your eyes locked onto him, he was trapped. Hypnotized. His breath hitched, pulse stuttering in a way it had no right to. For what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t shake the invisible thread tightening between you. His fingers curled into his palm, nails pressing against his skin.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to snap out of it, dragging his attention back to the board. He took a measured breath, gripping the chalk like it might anchor him. "Alright, I know you’re all still in vacation mode, but we need to get talking about history."

The usual grumbling came, but it was muted, fading as students settled into their seats. Good. The routine was safe. The routine was predictable. The routine wouldn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

"Before we dive in, we have a new student joining us this year from the senior class," he announced, keeping his tone even, impersonal. His gaze flickered back to you, just for a second, just long enough to acknowledge you without giving himself away. "Would you introduce yourself?"

A brief silence. You hesitated, shifting under the weight of so many eyes before murmuring your name.

"Great," Rafe said, far too quickly. He cleared his throat, turning back to the board. "So, what do we know about American history from the Industrial Revolution to the modern age?"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of discussion, textbook readings, and writing exercises. Normally, this was when he’d catch up on grading or chip away at whatever administrative work he had. But today? No. Today, his focus splintered, frayed at the edges every time he felt your presence in the room.

His eyes kept drifting.

To you.

It was reckless. Stupid. He knew it was wrong, knew exactly how it would look if anyone noticed. He wasn’t blind, he’d found students attractive before, but it had always been a fleeting thing, a passing thought dismissed before it could take root. A moment, nothing more.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just acknowledging that you were pretty, though you were. Incredibly so. This wasn’t just an absent-minded recognition of beauty. No, this was something deeper. Something that twisted in his gut and settled in his bones, something that made his breath catch when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Something dangerous.

His fingers raked through his hair as he stared down at his keyboard, typing nothing. He could tell himself it was just a dry spell, that he’d been avoiding distractions for too long, that it was simply physical. But that would be a lie.

Because it wasn’t just about desire.

It was about you.

And that was a problem.

The shrill chime of the bell split the air, and the classroom erupted into motion. Notebooks snapped shut, chairs scraped against the tile, and a low hum of voices swelled as students shoved books into backpacks, eager to escape into the chaotic freedom of lunch. You swung your bag over your shoulder, weaving through the shifting maze of desks, your focus locked on the door. The cafeteria was called, an oasis of noise and anonymity where you could blend in, and where no one was analyzing your every move.

But just as you stepped forward, a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

"Hey."

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight, like an anchor dropping into the sea of departing students. Something in the tone made your stomach twist. You turned, pulse hitching slightly, to find Mr. Cameron watching you from behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, calm but not necessarily kind.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron?" you asked, hesitating.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was phrased like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t. He gave a small nod toward the door as the last few stragglers trickled out, a silent instruction.

With a quiet sigh, you nudged the door shut behind them, the click of the latch sealing you in. The classroom, so full of life just seconds ago, now felt cavernous, the quiet pressing in around you. You hesitated before making your way back to his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Mr. Cameron leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, fingers steepled together. "So… I wanted to talk to you about last year." His voice was measured, and neutral, but something about it put you on edge. "You were in Ms. Wallace’s class, right?" His eyes flicked to a sheet of paper in front of him, though you were certain he already knew the answer.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Mhm." A simple answer for something far more complicated. Your history with Ms. Wallace wasn’t just a class; it was a long, exhausting battle, a relentless tug-of-war between frustration, unmet expectations, and a sinking feeling of inevitability.

Mr. Cameron studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Can you tell me what didn’t work? Was it her? The material? Her teaching style? Or was it something on your end?" His head tilted slightly, voice smooth, probing.

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. "I guess I was just… kind of unfocused last year," you admitted, your voice barely above a murmur.

"Mm." He hummed, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Just last year?"

Your stomach tightened.

"Because judging by today’s lesson, it seems like you're still a little… distracted. More interested in doodles than in history, huh?"

Heat crept up your neck, shame pooling in your chest. Your gaze dropped to the floor as if looking anywhere else might soften the weight of his words.

"You’d think," he continued, his tone carrying the faintest edge, "that after the school let you pass the year and only required you to retake this class, you'd put in a little more effort."

His words landed like a slap, sharp, deliberate. He knew exactly how unfair that was. Knew how it would make you feel. And yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t stop himself.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You want to pass, yes?”

His voice was low, almost teasing, each word curling around you like smoke. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his desk, dark eyes locked onto yours with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, and gave a quick, eager nod.

Rafe watched you for a lingering second, dragging it out just long enough to make you shift where you stood. Then, with an exhale that was almost too casual, he pushed himself up from his chair. He didn’t simply stand, he moved. Slow. Deliberate. A quiet display of control as he braced one hand against the edge of his desk, his weight settling into a lean. The aged wood creaked under him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

His focus remained entirely on you.

“And what do you think I could do to help you achieve that?”

Smooth. Measured. But there was something else beneath his tone, something just sharp enough to catch. Playfulness, maybe. Amusement. Or something more dangerous.

His gaze flickered, sweeping over you in a way that felt too quick at first, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to act on. But then, you saw it. The hesitation. The way his throat bobbed, how his fingers flexed at his sides before he rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to shake off whatever had just slipped through the cracks. But it was too late.

You had seen.

And by the way, his jaw clenched a second later, the way his lips pressed together, you knew he realized it too.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Instead, your fingers fidgeted with each other, twisting and untwisting, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The silence between you stretched, thick and electric, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you dared name but both of you felt.

Rafe inhaled deeply, the sound filling the quiet space between you. The air itself seemed different now, charged, like something unseen was pressing in, urging one of you to break.

He let the breath out slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that somehow felt… controlled. Intentional. And then, his eyes moved again.

This time, there was no rush. No flicker of hesitation.

Now, he studied you.

It was slow, almost methodical, th

6e kind of look that made heat crawl up the back of your neck, the kind that lingered just long enough in places that made you second-guess every inch of yourself. When his gaze reached your thighs, a nervous jolt ran through you. Almost instinctively, you gripped the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, your knuckles turning white.

A nervous habit.

One he noticed.

One that made his eyes darken, not dramatically, not in some exaggerated, obvious way, but just enough. Just enough for you to catch the shift, to see the amusement flicker across his face like the hint of a smirk he didn’t fully let through.

“Hm?” The questioning hum he let out brought you back to reality, back to his question, and back to the answer that you had yet to give.

“Um… I- I don’t know…” you stammered out.

His eyes flick down again, taking in your upper body, eyes practically circling in on your chest. As if your body has a mind of its own, you straighten your back, puffing out your chest.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The air between you had thickened, dense with something unspoken, something dangerous. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow, almost pensive as if he were considering something he shouldn’t be. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh but carried no humor, just tension.

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now, quieter like he was testing the waters, like he was trying to figure out how far this would go before one of you came to your senses.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, your skin burning where his gaze traced. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast, something that couldn’t be undone.

His fingers tapped once, twice against the desk, a steady rhythm that contradicted the barely concealed restraint in his posture. His body language told two different stories, one of hesitation, and another of inevitability. He was too close, and yet he wasn’t moving away.

Your breath hitched as he shifted, his body angling just slightly towards yours. It was a minuscule movement, one that could’ve been mistaken for a simple change in weight, but you knew better. It was deliberate. Calculated.

“You want to pass this class?”

The question was a mere whisper, his voice dipped in something that made your stomach twist. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding, too fast, too eager.

His lips twitched, almost smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He leaned in just enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and musky, something entirely him.

“Then you’re gonna have to focus.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down your spine. His words weren’t inappropriate, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice wrapped around each syllable, made them feel like something else entirely.

Your knees felt weak, your heart pounding against your ribcage as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. The classroom, once suffocating in its quiet, now felt electric, charged with a current that neither of you dared acknowledge aloud.

Rafe exhaled again, this time slower, measured. His hand moved, not towards you, not touching, but close enough that you felt the shift in air between you.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath shuddered. “I—”

His head tilted slightly, watching, waiting. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable but entirely focused on you.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting something. A beat of silence stretched between you.

And then, Rafe moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t forceful. It was a slow descent, a moment stretched into eternity. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the ghost of his breath against your skin, close enough that your lips parted in anticipation before your mind could catch up.

He paused—just for a fraction of a second, just enough to give you the chance to pull away. Just enough to make it clear that if this happened, it was your choice, too.

But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

And before you could let a single other breath out, his lips met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. A barely-there brush that sent a sharp current through your veins, igniting something dangerous and uncontainable in your chest.

He exhaled against your mouth, and in that moment it seemed like something in him snapped.

His hand found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your cardigan as he pulled you just slightly closer. His other hand lifted, skimming along your jaw before his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so.

The kiss deepened, slow but demanding, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting another spark beneath your skin. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, taking his time like he wanted to memorize the exact way you fit against him. He knew this was a mistake but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Your hands found his chest, pressing lightly against the fabric of his dress shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair at the contact, his grip on your waist firm but careful, as if he was anchoring himself as much as he was anchoring you.

The sharp sound of footsteps in the hallway shattered the fragile haze that had settled between you two, yanking you both back into reality.

Rafe was the first to react, pulling away, but only just. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. His fingers, warm and possessive, lingered at your waist a second too long before he finally, finally, let go, stepping back just enough to put a sliver of space between you. But not enough to erase what had just happened.

His eyes searched yours, dark blue depths swirling with something unreadable, something dangerous. His exhale was sharp, tension coiling through his jaw as he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping at the strands like he was trying to ground himself.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and uneven. Then, with more force, “Fuck. Fuck.”

His eyes shut tight, his head shaking in frustration as if the motion itself could erase the last few minutes. When they opened again, they were filled with something even more intense. In two strides, he was in front of you again, his hands gripping your upper arms, fingertips pressing just a little too hard, just enough to make you feel trapped between the heat of his body and the reality of the situation.

“This didn’t happen, okay?” His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor to it like he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself. His grip tightened before loosening again, as if he was at war with himself as if he didn’t trust his restraint.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, your breath uneven. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, and something in him cracked. His hands slid down your arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his fingertips finally settled at your hipbones, pressing in lightly, his resolve wavered even more.

“This…” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

His voice was different now, lower, more raw. His fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of your skirt as his mind spiraled, thoughts tumbling into a chaotic storm. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t like him. He had met you, his student, his goddamn student, less than an hour ago, and he had already crossed every possible line. And yet, even knowing that he wasn’t pulling away. He was moving closer.

His hands ghosted up your sides, the touch sending shivers across your skin. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Can you do that for me?”

If someone had asked you that morning how you thought your first day of senior year would go, never in a million years would you have said this? Sure, you’d heard the whispers in the halls, and seen the way every girl’s eyes lingered when he walked past. Mr. Cameron was the forbidden fantasy, the subject of countless rumors and stolen glances. But he was also your teacher. And he had just kissed you.

You knew it was wrong. You should run, tell someone, do the right thing. And yet, as your mind battled between logic and desire, only one thought rose above the rest: he had kissed you.

Mr. Cameron, the man every girl in school lusted after, had kissed you. Had he done this before? Had he chosen others before you? Or was this different?

Even as doubt twisted itself into a tight knot in your stomach, you found yourself nodding, unable to speak, afraid your voice would betray you with the high-pitched, breathy sound of a girl who had just been touched by fire and didn’t want to step away.

“Good.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost more breath than sound. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating, but you didn’t want to breathe anything else in. His fingers glided upward again, teasing over your waist, grazing over your ribs, leaving a trail of heat that made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Then, gently, with a tenderness that contradicted the fevered hunger in his eyes, he cupped your face. For one impossible moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, that he was going to throw every bit of logic and control out the window and claim your lips as he had minutes ago. But instead, he tilted your head slightly, his breath warm against your throat.

Then his lips were on your neck, barely touching, soft and slow.

A sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, escaped you, and his hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you, making you feel small under his grasp. His mouth moved lower, pressing another kiss, and then another, each one more deliberate, more intoxicating than the last.

You barely registered the moment he turned you around, your back now facing him. Your hands trembled as they found purchase against the smooth surface of his desk, the dark wood cool beneath your fingertips.

Then, with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver racing down your spine, he placed his hands on your thighs, massaging them slowly, possessively.

His voice, low and dripping with something dark and dangerous, ghosted over your ear.

“Stay quiet for me.”

You sucked in a deep, long breath, letting your head fall and your eyes close.

The feel of the Rafe´s fingers slid under the skirt and the pads of his fingers started tracing along your panties, each tiny motion making your body stutter and tremble.

“You´re… you´re real special, you know that?” He spoke from behind you but you couldn’t respond, still holding your breath as if letting out the air would make the situation you found yourself in truly real.

When he had had enough of feeling the warm, twisted feeling in his stomach as he let his fingers glide over your clothed cunt, he pushed your underwear aside with his thumb, letting the tip of his index finger dip into your already quivering hole. The action intensified the feeling and buried it even deeper in his gut.

As if a shock of lightning had hit you, you bolted away from his hand a few inches, clenching your thighs tightly as you finally relieved your lungs of the air they were keeping trapped.

“M- Mr. Cameron…” You started to sputter out but stopped when you felt long, gruff fingers curl around the sides of your panties before pulling the black lace material down tantalizingly slow.

A cold rush of air hit your most intimate body part, making you gasp and pant. When you heard rustling and what you could only assume was the clink of your teacher´s belt, you shut your mouth and froze as you waited for the man´s next move.

“Listen,” he whispered your name like it was a sin he committed and you were a pastor, “You understand that this stays between us, yes?” His large hands massaged your ass and thighs, cursing under his breath when he saw how soaked you were.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement. You weren´t sure why. He was your teacher and by the looks of it and the feel of his hands on you, apparently a pedophile. But god did you want this; you wanted it, him, so bad.

Before you could so much as even let another thought pass through your head, he thrust forward, burying his cock inside you as deep as he could with multiple rapid movements of his hips. You moaned and practically screamed, the sounds of pleasure from you making Rafe reach around and cover practically half of your entire face.

“Fuck, you´re so tight,” he muttered sharply next to your ear as he started moving inside of you again, dragging his hips back only to snap them back forward less than a moment later.

“You like that, huh? Like being fucked by your teacher. Little teachers pet.”

He knew this was wrong, you were his student, and you probably didn´t even actually want this but for some fucked up reason that made it even better for Rafe, and as the thought crossed his mind it only made him thrust into you faster. At that point, you were damn near choking and sobbing into his hand, his palm making it hard for you to get a deep breath of fresh air in.

With a sense of panic taking over you, you tried to move your hands off of the desk to claw him off of your face but your attempts proved futile when Rafe pushed you flat onto the desk, forcing you to take his cock even deeper.

His free hand which wasn´t taking away your ability to breathe, found its way between your legs, his index, and middle fingers drawing squiggly circles on your clit. At the shock of pleasure that ran through you as he teased your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, you clenched around his pipe and arched your back. You felt that familiar coil spring up in the depths of your stomach, your body rocking slightly backward against Rafe´s to help you relive the press soon.

Rafe pushed into you harder than he had any of the other time before then, hitting your sweet spot with a force that would have made you cry out, had you had your mouth free. His fingers applied pressure to the shapes they were making on your clit. The mix of heightened attention and force made your pussy squeeze around him and pushed you over the edge, coming with tears in your eyes.

After a few more brutal thrusts into your soppy cunt, he came as well, unloading into you, his thoughts barely registering anything at that point except for you and your body bent over his desk, his cum dripping out of your used up hole and onto your thighs.

Slowly he took away his hand from your face, a trail of spit following. As soon as you got a few much-needed breaths, you collapsed onto the desk, your body falling limp. Rafe pulled out of you, not wasting any time before he pulled his pants back on and redid his leather belt around his hips. He leaned over you, his body covering all of your sweaty skin as he dressed you in your underwear again.

“You did so good, darling. So, so good."

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Beginners Guide to Descriptive Sentences

Hi writers.

I’m Rin T, and in this post I’m excited to share with you a detailed guide on how to craft vivid descriptions and descriptive sentences for your writing. I’ve long believed that descriptive writing is the magic that turns ordinary text into an immersive experience. When done well, every sentence acts like a brushstroke that paints a scene in the reader’s mind.

──────────────────────────── Why Descriptive Writing Matters ────────────────────────────

I have seen how powerful descriptions can engage readers and establish a strong connection with the narrative. Descriptive writing is not simply about decorating your work; it is about building an atmosphere that transports your reader to a world. your world.

When you write descriptions, remember:

You are setting the tone.

You are building a world.

You are evoking emotions.

You are inviting your readers to experience your story with all their senses.

──────────────────────────── Step-by-Step: Crafting Vivid Descriptions ────────────────────────────

Below are my personal tips and tricks to help you build detailed and captivating descriptions:

Begin With the Senses

Description does not solely depend on what the eyes can see. Consider sound, smell, taste, and touch. For instance, instead of writing “The witch’s hut was eerie,” try elaborating: “The witch’s hut exuded an eerie aura. The creaking timber and distant echoes of whispering winds mingled with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and mysterious herbs.” In this way, you help the reader not only see the scene but also feel it.

Choose Precise and Evocative Language

Precision in language is vital. Replace generic adjectives with specific details to boost clarity and imagery. Rather than “The forest was dark,” consider: “The forest was a labyrinth of shadowed boughs and muted undergrowth, where the light barely touched the spindly branches, and every step unveiled whispers of ancient spells.” Specific details create tangible images that stay with readers.

Show, Don’t Just Tell

A common mistake is to “tell” the reader how to feel, rather than “showing” it through context and detail. Instead of writing “It was a spooky night,” immerse your reader: “Under a pallid crescent moon, the night unfurled like a canvas of foreboding whispers; broken branches and rustling leaves narrated the secrets of a long-forgotten curse.” By showing the elements, you invite the reader to experience the fear and mystery firsthand. (You don't need to be as dramatic as my examples, but this is simply for inspiration)

Use Figurative Language Thoughtfully

Metaphors, similes, and other figures of speech lend an artistic flair to your descriptions. When writing about a scene in a magical world, you might say: “Her eyes shone like twin beacons of moonlit silver, cutting through the gloom as if to part the veil of night itself.” Such comparisons evoke emotions and deepen the reader’s connection with the scene. However, be cautious not to overdo it; a little figurative language can go a long way.

Strike a Balance Between Details and Pacing

While elaborate descriptions are alluring, too many details can weigh down your narrative. Consider introducing the broader scene first and then focusing on key elements that define the mood. For instance, start with an overview: “The village lay nestled between ancient stone arches and mist-covered hills.” Then, zoom into details: “A solitary, ivy-clad tower sent spiraling tendrils of mist into the twilight, as if guarding secrets of a long-lost incantation.” This technique creates a rhythm, drawing readers in gradually.

──────────────────────────── Practical Exercises to Enhance Your Descriptive Writing ────────────────────────────

To help you practice these techniques, try the following exercises:

Sensory Detail Drill: Select a familiar scene from your fantasy world (for example, a witch’s secluded garden). Write a short paragraph focusing on each of the five senses. What do you taste as you bite into a magical fruit? What sounds resonate in the quiet of the enchanted night? This drill helps you to avoid flat descriptions and encourages you to integrate sensory experiences.

Revision and Refinement: Take a simple sentence like “The night was cold,” and transform it using the advice above. Rework it into something like, “The night was a canvas of shimmering frost and darkness, where every breath of the wind carried a hint of winter’s sorrow.” Compare the two, and notice how minor adjustments can dramatically heighten the mood.

Peer Review Sessions: Sharing your work can offer invaluable insights. Exchange your descriptions with fellow writers and ask for focused feedback, Does the description evoke the intended emotion? Does it deliver a clear image? Use these sessions as opportunities to improve and refine your craft.

──────────────────────────── Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them ────────────────────────────

Through my years of writing, I've learned that even the most passionate writers can stumble. Here are some pitfalls to watch out for:

Overloading With Adjectives: While it’s tempting to create elaborate descriptions, too many adjectives and adverbs can distract rather than enhance. Aim for clarity and purpose in every word. Instead of “a very dark, spooky, frightening forest filled with creepy sounds,” try “a forest shrouded in ominous silence, where every rustle hinted at unseen mysteries.”

Falling Into Clichés: Familiar images can sometimes render your work predictable. Try to avoid worn phrases. Instead of “as dark as night,” imagine “as impenetrable as the void that separates worlds.” Unique expressions capture attention and create lasting impressions.

Neglecting the Flow: Descriptions are vital, but the narrative must continue to drive forward. Check that your detailed passages serve to enhance the storyline rather than bog it down. Ask yourself: Does this description bring the reader closer to the action, or does it detract from the momentum of the narrative?

──────────────────────────── Advanced Techniques for the Aspiring Writer ────────────────────────────

Once you’re comfortable with the basics, consider these advanced methods to elevate your descriptions into artful prose:

Integrate Descriptions Seamlessly: Instead of isolating your descriptions, weave them into dialogue and action. For example, as a witch brews her potion, you might describe the bubbling cauldron and swirling mists as part of her incantation, not just as a standalone scene. “As she whispered the ancient words, the cauldron responded, its surface rippling like a dark mirror reflecting centuries of secrets.”

Reflect Character Perspectives: Let your characters’ emotions color the scene. If a character fears a looming threat, their perception will add a layer of tension to the environment. “I entered the dim corridor with trepidation, my heart pounding as the flickering torchlight revealed spectral figures dancing along the walls.” This technique makes the description both situational and personal.

Use Rhythm: The cadence of your sentences can mirror the pace of your narrative. In high-tension moments, short, abrupt sentences heighten the urgency. Conversely, in serene scenes, longer, flowing sentences can create a tranquil atmosphere. Experiment with sentence structure until you find a balance that suits both your style and the mood you wish to convey.

──────────────────────────── Final Thoughts and Encouragement ────────────────────────────

your narrative is your unique creation. you too will find your distinctive voice. I encourage you to keep experimenting with different techniques until your descriptions feel both natural and mesmerizing. Write freely, revise diligently, and most importantly, let your creative spirit shine through every line.

Thank you for joining me. I hope these tips can help you.

[doctor-bus]

This morning I was like. "I don't wanna stay at home and play video games all day..."

So I went to the arcade and played video games there instead lmao