Rodan doesn't know his name, so it's just what he calls the guy. Later, when he does learn the real name, he still calls him Thin Stick.
So sorry you've got the flu. There is nothing good to say about having the flu, other than I hope you start feeling better really soon.Yes, it's saliva. I've been plagued by a stomach flu the past few weeks so I've had lots of recent experience with this. It's nature's way of diluting the stomach acid that's about to make an explosive appearance in your mouth and throat. Yuck! Swallowing the saliva increases the chance of vomiting while spitting it out decreases the likelihood of vomiting.
There is bile reflux, similar to acid reflux, but I don't think it's related to vomiting.
Charming subject, isn't it?
?? It's actually a yellowish to greenish-brown liquid secreted by the liver and stored in the gallbladder, from whence it goes into the duodenum to aid in digestion. It may be part of the vomit if someone throws up, and I think people have come to (possibly incorrectly) associate that sudden rush of digestive fluids and acid up into the throat and mouth as bile...but I don't think it has anything to do with saliva. Where did you read that?
ETA: Ack! Sorry! Total fail on my part. I misread what you wrote.
Yeah, the rush of liquid that floods your mouth just before you spew is saliva, but I think bile can come up eventually - I have a very vivid memory of the worst hangover of my entire life, where all I did was hang my head over the bucket at the side of my bed all day. After the first hour, there was literally nothing in my stomach to come up, so I started puking this horrible bright yellowish stuff. That's bile - and there is a reason it is often used as a metaphor for bitterness. It really does taste foul and bitter
Oh no! I'm so sorry to have been such a bad influence. That is quite the description -- I'm not sure whether to laugh or throw up. Hopefully Pandaman will be feeling better before he stops by this thread again.And there I was, almost weaned off Japanese puke porn, and now...all that erotic bile dripping from this quivering moist thread.
Suddenly, my research into medieval squid romances has lost all relevance.
Farewell, sweet fisherman's wife...
Here's my favorite line from my WIP.
I love, love, love that line. It needs to be in a book of famous wise quotations. I want it framed or something. And signed by the author!
I do love a good redemption story. I have one of those as a subplot in mine.
His powers are growing -- how exciting! Maybe that will help him get out of the very bad situation he just landed in.Re the fire ability--in the past, he often couldn't access it, at least not on demand. That's about to change.
That's a good way to describe it; bile tastes disgusting. That's what made me think I probably had it wrong in my scene. When I've vomited from drinking too much, it was always when I was still drunk. For some reason, I never throw up the next day. I can feel like the walking dead, and wish I was throwing up, but it never happens that way for me. I don't know why, because it seems like everyone else does it your way.
Quick question for you, Kallithrix: what word is it, and who doesn't know what it means? I would settle for just knowing what word it is. That way I can verify if I know what it means.
I do recall a very bad experience on vodka a few years back that has put me off the stuff ever since. I was kind of hoping it would eventually change, but maybe there’s not a lot of hope for that. The guy I was dating, who was also pouring the drinks, tried to convince me it must have been food poisoning, but unlike vodka, I can still stomach all of the food I ate that day. I’m guessing alcohol poisoning can potentially last for three days, too. That’s the sickest I’ve ever been because of something I ingested. Here’s hoping I never have to repeat the experience.I don't usually get bad stomach hangovers, but I've had it on two occasions - that one happened to be a massive overdose of tequila. Ever since that experience, I can't touch the stuff any more.
The other bad experience was after too much red wine. God, that was, er... vibrant.
Well, if you don't know what that's a quote from, I'm afraid I can't be your friend no more
I'm impressed you were able to choose only one, because I've seen so many wonderful lines in your writing.
I love, love, love that line. It needs to be in a book of famous wise quotations. I want it framed or something. And signed by the author!
I love that line, Pandaman, just love it.
Yeah, this. ^ Stories have given me company and kept me sane my entire life. They are very precious to me.
“Savor the aroma of a papaya first. Let your tongue anticipate it’s sweetness.” He held it to her nose. After she took a long whiff, he picked up a knife and sliced through the soft skin, squeezed a wedge of lime over the flesh, and handed one half of the fruit to her.
“Aren’t you going to take out the seeds?” she asked.
“I want you to close your eyes and do it with your hands.”
She looked puzzled but scooped out the seeds like she was told.
“What does it feels like?”
“Squishy and gooey.”
“What else?”
“Bumpy. Kind of mysterious.”
“Excellent. Let’s eat.”
He watched Olana sink her teeth into the orange flesh, slurping as much of the fruit as she could fit into her mouth, gnawing on the tidbits clinging to the skin. Juice dribbled down her chin. She wiped the sticky mess with the side of her right hand, followed by her left in the same manner, then licked them both. She crunched on a few of the seeds and winced at their peppery bitterness. “Why do papayas have so many seeds?”
“Because they have lots of stories to tell.”
“That’s silly.”
“Not to papayas it isn’t. They like to spread their stories far and wide. They’re great storytellers, you know.”
“Why are they bitter and not sweet like the fruit?”
“Everything in life is a balance, My Dear. Sweet flesh, bitter seeds. Some have dark secrets.
“You mean like Uncle Tengar’s stories? I want to be a storyteller like Uncle Tenger, bitter and sweet.”
A mixed feeling of relief and panic swept over him. It was certainly a good sign she wanted to be a storyteller, but it’s only been since Tengar told his version of the story that she’s been so curious. What did he say to her?
A mosquito buzzed around his ear. He swiped at it but it got away. “You must be careful of the stories he tells. There’s a dark magic to some of them.”
“Are you saying his stories are bad?”
“Not necessarily, but you must be mindful of where they lead. He tells them as if he were wearing a mask, a mask of changing expressions, like sunlight falling through dark clouds, playing peek-a-boo with your soul.”
“His story scared me for weeks, but after thinking about it, I want to know why he told it to me.”
Kohtalo wanted to know too, but his confidence in her ability now shook like earthquakes from Mount Pongaro. He didn’t know which story, his or his brother's, would take root and flourish. Like little black papaya seeds, Olana’s magic ability loomed somewhere in a dark mystery of stories, waiting to be eaten by wild animals, or come to rest upon the fertile soil of possibilities.
I'll pass on the puking panda, but glad to help give you a boost.The kind comments from the both of you are helping me feel better! Thanks. I'd say hugs to the both of you, but you probably don't want to get to close, if you know what I mean. A barfing panda bear ain't a pretty sight.
Hey Papaya, I remember I once told you I had papaya in my WIP. Well, here it is.
The MC, Kohtalo, is a storyteller with the mission in life to shape his granddaughter's (Olana) soul and magic storytelling ability via his stories. His younger brother, Tengar, has other ideas about storytelling though.
Okay, I looked it up, and yes, I do know what the word means. I feel so much better now.
For some reason, I thought it was a quote from a conversation with an AW member. Turns out it’s from a movie that was huge during my childhood. We were all infatuated with Wesley and obsessed with the romance between him and Buttercup. But I still didn’t recognize the line. That must mean it’s time to see it again.
Does this mean we can still be friends?
ETA: Looks like the quote was originally in the book, which makes sense. I forgot about the book. I guess because I never read it. I don't even think I knew there was a book, during my childhood, which is sad, because reading The Princess Bride as a child would have made it extra special. Maybe I should finally read it. I've been meaning to read The Neverending Story, too.
It's a deal! Would you like it in a bamboo frame?
The kind comments from the both of you are helping me feel better! Thanks. I'd say hugs to the both of you, but you probably don't want to get to close, if you know what I mean. A barfing panda bear ain't a pretty sight.
Hey Papaya, I remember I once told you I had papaya in my WIP. Well, here it is.
The MC, Kohtalo, is a storyteller with the mission in life to shape his granddaughter's (Olana) soul and magic storytelling ability via his stories. His younger brother, Tengar, has other ideas about storytelling though.
We all have the power of light inside us, it’s just that sometimes the darkness is stronger. Fear is like darkness, too. It can consume you. It will consume you. And when you let it consume you, it’ll be hard as hell to break free from it. You have to fight it.
Editing and editing, and wondering what exactly to work on next. Anna? Should I go back to Anna?
Yes, give us some more Anna. Please, please, please.There in the trees, amidst the leaves, Anna Reyes shimmered and disappeared.
I'll pass on the puking panda, but glad to help give you a boost.
Wow, your writing is profound, which is the sort that always pulls at me the most. I’ve been looking for fantasy that has more of that. This kind of writing hits me on a soul level. I’ve always been drawn to it. As a child, my favorite recitation to read during the puja was the most esoteric of them all. It was spiritual poetry, and I loved it, for both the beauty of the words and the wisdom they held.
I resonate with the philosophy and wisdom inherent in the culture you’ve created. I wish I could live in that culture.
After reading this scene, I have a whole new appreciation for papayas, too. I ate so many of them when I lived in Fiji, my hands and feet turned orange, but they don’t taste nearly as good here and cost a bloody fortune last I checked, so I haven’t had many since I was a child. I used Papaya for my avatar, because it rhymes with my name, and when I was a kid people used to tack Papaya onto my name. For some reason, I didn’t like the nickname. I guess I was a painfully serious child.
I do hope you’ll let us know when this story is available for purchase. I can already tell I’m going to love it.
Happy sigh. I love all the layers in this. A little mix of sweet and bitter itself, and the last lines are just perfect. Another happy sigh.
I hope you're recovering by now?
Editing and editing, and wondering what exactly to work on next. Anna? Should I go back to Anna?
/////
She pressed herself against the window as soon as they came to the trees. It took them another ninety minutes to drive to their campground, and Anna didn’t look away from the woods once. When Hector parked the truck she tumbled out almost before it had stopped moving, and stood stock-still, looking up into the canopy.
There in the trees, amidst the leaves, Anna Reyes shimmered and disappeared. Hector was able to find her body when it was time to hike, to eat, to bed down for the night, but spiritually she was gone. She had flown into the branches, she had seeped into the ground. The river befriended her in a way no child ever had. The nighttime campfires filled and cracked her heart.
Re-entering her body wasn’t easy. She was limp from exhaustion when they drove home five days later. Hector glanced at her every now and then, and was alarmed to see that her clothes were looser than they had been a week before. Her eyes, unfocused, barely blinked.
“Papi, when can we go back?”
Thunder filled Hector’s veins. “Soon, nina. Very, very soon.”
Yes, a huge improvement since Friday. Thanks. I was even able to take Mrs Panda to Siesta Key (near Sarasota, FL) yesterday for our anniversary. The wind and the waves and the powdery white sand did wonders for me.
She bought me six mangoes and a papaya. A perfect gift. God, I love that woman!
There's something primeval about this world you've created. People travel in cars and go camping like ordinary folk, and yet the veneer of civilization seems so very thin...