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blu-joons · 3 years

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DATING EXO HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Oh Sehun

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Incredibly affectionate, that’s the best way to describe Sehun. He has a lot of love to give, and that usually ends up coming in the form of either a hug or a kiss, or sometimes just being able to hold onto your hand.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You worked backstage on Busted which was how the two of you met. Sehun had his eye on you quite early on, but he was far too nervous to say anything. He kept a close eye on you throughout the feeling, which was something several other members of cast and crew soon picked up on, encouraging him to at least say hello.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

On the last day of filming, Sehun invited you to one side so that he could talk to you. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until Sehun began to tell you all about how he had been watching you over the past few weeks. When he finished his talk off by inviting you out to dinner, you were definitely taken aback, but you didn’t need much time to accept and go out to dinner with him that night to a nearby restaurant.

D ⇴ DATES

Your dates together were usually quite spontaneous, Sehun loved to see what took your fancy when you stepped outside. He loved the element of surprise, if the two of you spotted something whilst walking around, you’d just head over and give it a try. Whenever he has an event for the group or his acting, he’ll always invite you. He loves to introduce you to his friends and show you what he’s been working on, whilst it might not be a date per se, time spent with Sehun is more than enough for you to enjoy.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

You were the first experience of love Sehun had, a lot of the early days were about allowing him to learn about relationships. He was open with you about his fears and worries about dating, but after talking with you, he knew that he had to trust in the two of you. To begin with, he never said a word to anyone about you out of fear something would happen, however overtime, he began to relax a little more and seen began to share more with other people about your relationship and how happy he was with you.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

Sehun isn’t afraid to say what’s on his mind, which can sometimes lead to a bit of miscommunication between the two of you. Once he realises that what he’s said has upset you however, he’ll be quick to realise his own mistake. He values the time he spends with you in amongst his busy schedule so the last thing he wants to do with you during this time is fight. He won’t be able to let an argument settle, as soon as it feels like it’s blowing up, he’ll diffuse the situation and encourage you both to talk about things rather than letting it fester. He won’t leave you alone until an argument is resolved between you both.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family were a little apprehensive to meet you, but as soon as they did, they saw exactly why Sehun fell in love with you. They were a little worried about Sehun when he told them that he was dating, but after getting to know you and seeing the two of you together, they soon saw exactly what Sehun saw in you too.

H ⇴ HOME

Sehun only waited a few months before inviting you to move into his place. He was quite keen on having someone around to help and support him. It was only when he moved out, did he realise how much he needed the other members, and whilst they could never be replaced, living with you was just as good, if not better.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

He was the first one to say, ‘I love you,’ one night when you surprised him at the studio. You weren’t to know, but a visit from you was exactly what he needed. When he saw you, he just couldn’t help but say it as a token of appreciation to how pleased he was to see you. You thought nothing of it but hearing him say he loved you certainly made you smile.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Out of the two of you, you tended to get jealous a little more than Sehun. You always knew that he was a social person, and at most events he loved to circulate and speak to people, but that didn’t stop you getting jealous at times. Sehun would be able to tell straight away when you were feeling jealous and would usually place his arm around you to not make a scene around his friends. When the two of you were alone however, he’d be a lot more verbally reassuring and remind you that you were the one he was with.

K ⇴ KIDS

Having children felt like quite a way off for Sehun just yet, but that didn’t stop him from discussing it with you from time to time. He wanted to make it clear to you that he saw children in your future together, just not in the immediate future. He’d often sit to himself and imagine what his future would look like with you and children, even if it wasn’t to happen straight away, Sehun couldn’t wait for the day.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Hearing you laugh was one of his favourite sounds in the world, he couldn’t help but laugh whenever he heard you laughing. He loves to mess around with you and wind you up, he’s had plenty of practice over the years with mocking his elder members that he knew exactly how to get a laugh out of people. If you’ve ever had a bad day, he will work hard to put a smile on your face, if there’s one good thing about Sehun, he’s relentless, and he won’t stop trying until your smile is firmly back on your face for him to see.

M ⇴ MISSING

The members are very protective of Sehun as the youngest, so they always pick up on when he’s missing you. They’ll rally around and pick him up and will also send you a text every now and then to maybe nudge you into getting into contact with him. You know that Sehun will try and convince you that he’s alright, so you’re always grateful whenever the boys get in contact with you and let you know what’s really going on. It will take a while for Sehun to admit to how he’s feeling, but once you eventually break down that wall in him, he’ll open up. He works hard to make time for you whenever he’s on the road, at some points it can be a struggle, but he will always find a way even just to say hello to you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Sehun loves nicknames for you, cute names like ‘petal’ and ‘sweet,’ are two of his usual favourites, he loves to change things up and take you by surprise with a cute little name that he knows will make you smile.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He’s obsessed with your body, he could never pick a favourite part of it, but he loves to have some form of physical contact against you when he’s close to you.

P ⇴ PDA

As he’s in public quite a lot at events and promotions, he’s not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. He’s not someone that will make a big deal out of affection, but it will be enough to make it clear to other people that you’re with him and that’s staying right by your side in order to keep you safe and protected.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Sehun has a very curious mind, so he’ll often ask you questions about the world. He loves to engage in conversation about anything that comes to mind and sit with you and enjoy several debates about random things.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Very few people are aware of a bracelet that Sehun carries around wherever he goes. It was one he stole from your wardrobe a long time ago when he went away. If he’s wearing long sleeves, he’ll wear it on his wrist, but if his wrists are on show, he’ll tend to place it in his pocket or attach it to a zipper on his outfit, it’s something that you can look out for, but none of the fans or staff will even be able to see it on him.

S ⇴ SEX

He loves to explore and try new things; his curious mind will often get the better of him as he aims to learn more about your money and your needs. Sehun takes great pleasure in taking care of you, he focusses a lot on your insecurities and will take extra time to reassure you about all of them. He loves to whisper into your ear and be as affectionate as possible, anything that will do the trick and put a smile on your face.

T ⇴ TEXTS

His schedules are often busy which means there’s limited time for you. When he can get a moment during those busy days he’ll always send you a text to prove to you that he’s taking care of himself and eating well.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

For so many years he’d been the baby of the group, but now he liked having someone to look after. He was loyal to you always, once he felt his heart beat around you, he knew that he saw his forever with you.

V ⇴ VACATION

Whenever he went overseas, Sehun would try hard to be able to get you to go with them. He travelled often with everything that he did, but he loved to have you with him. On his days off, he loved to take you out to explore and give you a bit of time with him too away from his busy schedule that constantly interrupted you both.

W ⇴ WHINING

If he didn’t have your attention, Sehun wasn’t afraid to kick up a storm. He’d sit and wait patiently until he had your full attention and then he’d talk.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Sehun is a big fan of kisses, they’re simple ways of constantly reminding you that he loves you in his opinion. He much prefers to kiss you than for you to kiss him, he likes to be with the one to make your heart burst and fill you with a lot of warmth. His kisses can often be spontaneous too, he loves to take you by surprise and appear by your side when you least expect him by pressing a kiss against the side of your face.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his partner in crime, together the two of you were very mischievous.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

At night, Sehun loved to sit and talk with you. He’d lay tangled up with you, he loved to play with your hair especially whilst you’d tell him what was on your mind, and then lay as he responded and supported you in whatever it was you told him.

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Masterlist

#exo #exo imagine #sehun #sehun imagine #oh sehun #oh sehun imagine #exo drabble #exo sehun #exo scenario #exo reaction #exo one shot #exo fluff #sehun scenario #sehun reaction #sehun one shot #sehun drabble #sehun fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

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It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014. But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen? Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak). And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination. How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

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sophieakatz · 4 years

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Thursday Thoughts: Setup, Payoff, Stakes, and Sonic

Let me get one thing out of the way: Sonic the Hedgehog is a weird movie. It is incredibly, pervasively weird, and I spent a large portion of the film thinking, “What the heck am I watching?”

This could be because I have zero familiarity with Sonic’s video games. My exposure to Sonic the Hedgehog before the 2020 movie included his cameos in Wreck-It Ralph, a couple rounds of Sega Superstars Tennis which gave me a lifelong fascination with NiGHTS, and one of those little McDonald’s handheld games in which we pushed the button to make the hedgehog jump.

Going into this movie, I knew that Sonic the Hedgehog is a very fast runner, that he collects rings, and that there is a villain named Eggman. That’s it. So it’s entirely possible that I missed a good 99% of the references, hence my first conclusion that this movie is phenomenally weird.

Here is my second conclusion:

You could use this movie to teach writing classes.

I can’t remember the last time I saw a story in any medium that was such a tight ship. Every single aspect of this film is set up quickly and effectively, and paid off in a way that makes perfect sense based on the previously established rules of the story world. Nothing comes out of nowhere. Once you accept the initial premise – that there is a blue hedgehog from another world who can run over three hundred miles per hour – everything follows naturally.

The first key set-up in this movie is that Sonic is a child. Depending on how old you assume he is in the opening flashback, he is at the most eighteen years old during the main plot. This immediately explains Sonic’s lack of impulse control, his active imagination, and his naïve sort of cockiness. He’s just a kid, and everyone else in the film is a human adult.

Another key set-up is that Sonic is lonely. The film is heavy-handed about this. Sonic is in hiding on Earth, and he can’t really interact or connect with anyone. Additionally, the film quickly links Sonic’s superpowers to his emotions regarding loneliness and attachment, and it maintains that connection throughout the story. The first time Sonic overloads, it’s when he realizes he is completely alone on the baseball diamond. The second time, it’s when he learns that Tom – a human he has become attached to – is planning on leaving Green Hills. The third and final power-up instigates when Tom finally calls Sonic his friend. At no point does anyone outright say that Sonic’s powers are boosted by these emotions. The film creates the association, and the power progression flows naturally from there, creating a climax that feels grounded in the rules that were quietly previously established.

There are lots of other aspects introduced early in the film which come into play later in a very neat and tidy way: the rings, the raccoons, Maddie’s job as a vet, the quill Tom found, the town’s tendency to call on Tom for little things, and even the mushroom world! There are no loose ends, and the result is a story that feels complete, with every scene feeling like the thing that must happen next rather than something that comes out of nowhere.

Sonic the Hedgehog can also be admired for its clear sense of stakes. In a worse film, it would be very easy to simply shrug off Sonic’s problems. So what if he’s being chased by the government – he’s literally the fastest being in the known universe, and he has magical rings that can go anywhere he thinks of, so how is this an obstacle to him? Why should he need Tom and Maddie’s help?

The film answers this question over and over again, giving Sonic reasonable obstacles that tie into aspects previously established about the world around him.

Sonic can’t just run away to another world – he’s about to, but then Tom’s raccoon problem and Maddie’s vet career combine into Tom accidentally shooting Sonic with a tranquilizer gun, causing him to not only temporarily lose his speed but also to lose the rings (which function exactly as we were told they would in an earlier scene).

Once Sonic gets his speed back, he can’t just run to San Francisco and get his rings back – because he is a child and has no idea how to get to San Francisco. He needs a human adult to take him there!

After the road trip begins, we not only learn more about Sonic’s skills, but also his limits. For all his speed, Sonic has no sense of aim (completely failing a game of darts) and no upper body strength (he can’t throw a punch to save his life). This makes Tom a necessary defender for Sonic against external threats, since he is a police officer who can throw a punch.

In the same scene that establishes these limits, we learn one of Sonic’s strengths: he can speed himself up to the point that the rest of the world stands still, allowing him to take control of a conflict in a casual, cocky manner. Again, in a worse film, this would make us wonder why Sonic needs anyone’s help and lower the stakes of the film.

However, the film turns Sonic’s cockiness against him. The second time Sonic enters one of these slow-motion sequences, in the middle of Sonic’s casual jog, Dr. Robotnik speeds up his ship (using the quill Tom found). Suddenly, the stakes are raised. Sonic’s expectations are broken; he has an obstacle he cannot defeat on his own and needs help. And, just like Sonic’s magic, this is not outright explained. It simply flows naturally from what we’ve seen to this point.

This film addresses a common problem writers face: how do you make an unrealistic world feel real and grounded?

The answer is setup and payoff. Create and establish rules, and follow them to their natural progression. Trust that the viewer is paying attention and give them something to think about.

We want stories to make sense – and a blue hedgehog with supersonic speed powers needing the help of adult human friends to save himself from a mad genius can make sense. All the scenes, all the objects, all the jokes we are introduced to provide the foundation for the rest of the film. Nothing comes from nowhere, and it feels great.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic 2020 #sonic movie #sonic #writing #writblr #thursday thoughts #reviews #Writing tips #stakes #setup #payoff #magic #rules

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voyagespiritueletinterieur · 3 years

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La déculpabilisation / Stop feeling guilty

Nous vivons dans un monde ou tout va vite.

Nous devons à tout prix être rentables. Nous devons aller vite. Toujours plus vite.

Nous sommes pressés de tous les côtés, au travail, à la maison, dans le domaine sentimental.

Nous devons réussir selon les normes. Avoir une situation professionnelle sérieuse, une maison, un mari, des enfants.

Nous avons une pression immense sur les épaules qui ne cessent de s’accroitre d’année en année.

A cette pression qui nous fait endurer la société vient s’ajouter la pression que nous nous mettons nous même sur les épaules.

Nous devons être productif au travail, avoir le frigo plein tous les jours, avoir le linge de lavé, repassé, rangé. La maison doit être impeccable, nous devons être impeccables.

Résultat à trop vouloir en faire nous nous épuisons.

La pression s’accroit, nos épaules s’affaissent et petit à petit nous sombrons.

Un mal être s’insinue en nous.

Aussi, pour lutter contre ceci, voici mon approche des choses.

Nous ne sommes pas parfaits. Nous ne pouvons pas l’être. Nous ne sommes pas des machines.

Nous devons être conscients que notre corps et notre esprit ont des limites.

Prends le temps de faire connaissance avec eux.

Ecoutes ton corps et écoutes ton esprit. Ne te surestime pas. Ne cherche pas à être productif à tout prix.

Il vaut mieux s’octroyer une soirée de repos plutôt que d’aller contre soi-même et faire tout de travers.

Oui car généralement qui dit fatigue dit irritabilité, étourderie, maladresse et j’en passe.

Alors n’est-il pas mieux de s’octroyer un peu de répit, se mettre sur pause et se laisser souffler ?

Pour cela, voici mes quelques conseils :

· Accordes toi une soirée par semaine rien qu’à toi. Tu peux lire, regarder un film, te faire couler un bon bain, peu importe, le principe est de se faire plaisir sans penser à rien

· Sondes toi régulièrement. Te sens tu fatigué ? Te sens-tu plus irritable que d’habitude ? As-tu envie de pleurer pour un rien ? Arrive-tu à dormir correctement ? Toute ces petites questions vont te permettre de dresser un bilan global de ton état physique et moral actuel.

· Etablis toi un signal d’alerte. Un signal que tu vas visualiser dès que la coupe sera pleine. Il te permettra de savoir qu’il te faut reposer et déconnecter.

· Déconnecte-toi de toute la pression que l’on te met et que tu te mets Vis le moment présent. Le reste tu verras plus tard. A chaque jours suffit sa peine.

· Déculpabilises. Tu n’es pas parfait ? Très bien, moi non plus tu sais. Ce n’est PAS GRAVE. Cela ne fait pas de toi quelqu’un de mauvais, de paresseux ou j’en passe. Cela fais de toi quelqu’un qui connait ses limites et qui les respecte. Cela fait de toi quelqu’un d’heureux. Ce n’est pas parce qu’aujourd’hui tu n’as pas fais quelque chose que tu es quelqu’un de nul ou de mauvais. Cela fais de toi un être en paix avec toi-même et ça c’est le plus important.

Voici donc mon premier article sur ce Tumblr, j’espère que ça t’aura plu et qu’il t’aidera dans ta quête de paix intérieure !

N’hésites pas à t’abonner et à me laisser en commentaire ton avis sur le sujet

We live in a world where everything goes fast. We must be profitable at all costs. We have to move fast. Faster and faster.

We are in a hurry on all sides, at work, at home, in the sentimental field. We must succeed as per society standards. Have a serious professional situation, a house, a husband, children.

We have a lot of pressure on our shoulders that keeps increasing every year. To this pressure that makes us endure society, is added the pressure that we put on ourselves.

We have to be productive at work, have the fridge full every day, have the laundry washed, ironed and put away. The house must be spotless, we must be spotless.

The result of trying too hard is that we are exhausted.

The pressure increases, our shoulders sag and we sink.

An uneasy feeling creeps into us.

So, to fight against this, here is my approach to things.

We are not perfect. We cannot be. We are not machines.

We must be aware that our body and mind have limits.

Take the time to get to know them.

Listen to your body and listen to your mind. Don't overestimate yourself. Don't try to be productive at all costs.

It's better to give yourself a night off than to go against yourself and do everything wrong.

Yes, because fatigue usually means irritability, dizziness, awkwardness and so on.

So isn't it better to give yourself a little break, take a break and let yourself breathe?

For that, here is my advices:

- Allow yourself one evening a week just for yourself. You can read, watch a movie, take a bath, anything, the most important is to enjoy yourself without thinking about anything.

- Probe yourself regularly. Do you feel tired? Do you feel more irritable than usual? Do you feel like crying over nothing? Are you sleeping well? All these little questions will allow you to draw up an overall assessment of your current physical and emotionally.

- Establish a warning signal. A signal that you will visualize as soon as you are at the breaking point. It will warn you that you need to rest and disconnect.

- Disconnect yourself from all the pressure you are under and live in the present moment. You will get back to it later. Everyday has enough trouble of its own.

- Stop blaming yourself. You are not perfect, very well, neither am I. It's NOT A BIG DEAL. It doesn't make you bad, lazy or anything. It makes you someone who knows your limits and respects them. It makes you a happy person. Just because you didn't do something today doesn't mean you're a bad person. It makes you at peace with yourself and that is the most important thing.

So here is my first article about this Tumblr, I hope you enjoyed it and that it will help you in your quest for inner peace!

Don't hesitate to subscribe and leave me your opinion on the subject in the comments.

#developpementpersonnel #deculpabilisation #bienveillance #bienetre #positive mental attitude #positiveenergy

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

Secret Santa

Summary: The reader is participating in the SPN cast & crew Secret Santa exchange for the first time when she ends up drawing Jensen’s name...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Written for a friend :) Enjoy!...

You yawned as you rested your head in your hand, watching the camera reset back into position, Jensen smiling from the other side of the table in the bunker set.

“What are you looking at goof?” you asked, smiling back at him.

“Uh, it’s the first day back from Thanksgiving break,” he said, still wearing that big charming smile.

“Yes, because we’re all overjoyed to be working a 12 hour day after having the past week off,” you teased.

“Oh, I forgot. You’re a rookie,” he teased right back.

“Rookie mistake?” asked your A camera operator.

“Rookie mistake,” said Jensen with a tsk.

“Rookie mistake, Y/L/N? I thought we knew you better than that by now,” said your B camera operator before the small crew in the bunker library was all sharing giggles.

“I hate working with all of you,” you said, biting your bottom lip when they started to laugh. “Come on, one more take and we all get to go home.”

“Rookie mistake,” said the boom guy, your jaw dropping.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Even I know-” said Alex before Jensen held up a hand.

“Ah, ah. Don’t be spoiling nothing for the rookie, pup,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was rookie last year,” said Alex. “Also, I am so calling you old man from now on.”

“Old man can kick your ass, pup,” said Jensen. Alex opened his mouth but realized Jensen probably very well could. “Besides, let’s not ruin the surprise, hm?”

“You are such a tease. Every last one of you,” you said, pointing at them all.

“Duh. You knew what you signed up for in the spring,” said Jensen, getting a waving finger. “Yeah, yeah. Come on rookie and pup, let’s finish this up so we can get to the good stuff.”

You heard a knock at your trailer door as you finished packing up your bag to go home, slinging it over your shoulders before you pulled the door open.

“Hi,” said Jensen, standing there with a tired but friendly smile. “Heading home?”

“After the staff meeting. I don’t feel like we’ve ever gotten one at the end of a day. Is this normal?” you asked, grabbing your phone and car keys, locking up your trailer after yourself.

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s a fun thing we do for the holidays around here is all,” he said. “I...the rookie thing wasn’t bothering you today, was it? I know we can take that stuff a bit far sometimes.”

“No,” you said, bumping his shoulder, giving him a smile. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Tired? We just had a week off,” he said, adjusting his own backpack as you walked.

“My break wasn’t awesome. You know how family can be,” you said.

“Not particularly. My family’s always gotten along, even if we all are a bit weird and dorky,” he said. “I realize why you sounded so off in our phone calls now though.”

“I traveled all the way to Maine to deal with...sorry. We’re going to do something fun you said?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “Rookie.”

“Okay, this is technically my second season on the show so-”

“Technically it’s your first full season on the show. Guest starring end of last season don’t count. Rookie,” he teased.

“You’ll pay for that, Ackles,” you said, booping him on the nose.

“Oh will I, Y/L/N?” he said, moving his arm around to pull you in front of him, starting to give you a noogie.

“Jensen. Jensen Ross Ackles! You are at your place of work, young man!” you said, Jared snorting as you watched him walk past.

“This is the most professional he’s ever acted,” said Jared, squishing your cheeks together before he headed towards set, Jensen chuckling as he helped get most of your hair out of your face.

“Boys,” you said, grabbing Jensen’s arm when he almost tripped over a set of cables running on the ground. “Careful, Jay. It’s your turn to buy dinner.”

“Ah, I see why you keep me around,” he said, righting himself, walking a little more slowly across the lot over to the bunker set. You yawned and rocked back on your heels, ready for some dinner in Jensen’s apartment and followed by a hot soaking bath in your own before bed.

A good chunk of the cast and crew was there, everyone lining up and jotting something down on slips of paper before they tossed them in a big basket.

“Write your name down,” said Jensen when you got up there. You did as told, placing it in the basket and moving aside, the line finishing up quickly after you. Someone turned a big handle on the basket and the paper jumbled together, mixing it all up.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. The 2018 Supernatural Secret Santa has the same rules as last year. $25 dollar limit. Only one secret santa per person. Gift exchange will take place on the last day of filming this year, right before the winter break. Any questions, please contact Nina, one of our lovely costume designers or myself as we are heading up the exchange this year. Does anyone have any questions?” asked Chad. “No? Alright. Step up and pick a name. If you draw your own name, stick it back in and draw again. Alright let’s go. I got a Buffalo Bills game to get home to.”

“He’s a fan of the Bills?” you whispered to Jensen. “Seriously?”

“Take pity on him. He’s Canadian,” whispered Jensen. It took a minute to get the line going again but once it was, people were out of there, saying goodnight to each other once they got their names.

Jensen shoved his hand inside and quickly glanced at the paper he’d grabbed before shoving it in his pocket. He stepped out of the way, waiting for you. You were glad you were tired because you were pretty sure your face would have shown who you’d gotten.

Jensen Ackles

You folded the paper up and put it in your jeans, Jensen smiling when you caught up with him.

“Get someone good?” he asked. You whipped your head up, giving him a smile.

“Mhm,” you said. “You?”

“Yup,” he said, stealing your car keys out of your hand. “I drive, you run in and pick it up on the way home?”

“Did you order yet?” you asked.

“Just did,” he said, twirling your keys around. You passed Cliff and Jared on the way to your car, Jensen saying he was riding home with you. Occasionally he did get a ride in with you and sometimes he even convinced you to come in with him if you were on the same shooting schedule for the day. He didn’t often drive for you though and you wondered what was on his mind.

“Hey, Jen,” you said once your seatbelt was on. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. You nodded, Jensen sighing.

“Just going home for the holidays...it can be a bit lonely, you know?” he said. “My siblings all have spouses and families and I’m the one crashing in my childhood bedroom by myself having my parents convince me I’m not a lost cause.”

“You know what you need right now?” you said, Jensen turning in his seat. You reached your hand out and traced a finger under his jaw, Jensen staring to laugh as you tickled him.

“Y/N, Y/N, I need to drive!” he laughed, squirming away until you finally relented. “I’m not even ticklish there.”

“Sure, you’re not,” you teased, scratching his jaw as Jensen chuckled. “I wanted to see a smile on that face of yours.”

“You always make me feel better when I’m down,” he said, smiling at you before suddenly turning away. “We should head out.”

After dinner at Jensen’s you headed down a few floors and to the other side of the building to your place, settling into your soaking tub, playing with some bubbles while you tried to think of what to possibly get him. A gift card was easy since you knew where he shopped and ate out. But it was impersonal and Jensen was your best friend. You were planning on getting him an actual Christmas present, had gotten it already, a pair of tickets to some pro golf thing where he could basically swing around clubs with the pros for a few hours and get some pointers. It sounded expensive but once you factored in the family discount your mom had swung for you with her friend, it was practically no cost at all.

You wanted to do something like that again, something he’d really love. All you kept thinking of though was stupid crap like an extra phone charger or heaven forbid, socks. You jolted up in the tub when your phone rang, quickly climbing out and grabbing it without looking.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Jensen. “Just me.”

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” you asked, throwing on your robe and undoing the tub. You walked into your bedroom, frowning at the clock. “I thought you were heading to bed early, catch up on some sleep.”

“Um...I did. I...shit, forget about it,” he said. “Night.”

He hung up and you pouted, calling him back but getting no answer.

“Ackles…” you grunted. You threw on your pajamas and grabbed your key, heading up to his apartment, knocking more than a few times before it opened up.

“What-”

“You call me like that and then don’t answer? Of course I’m coming to check on you,” you said, walking past him into the dark apartment. He sighed and closed the door, rubbing his eyes. His hair was tousled, shirt a little off. “You were asleep before.”

“Yeah. I was just about back asleep too when you showed up,” he said.

“Well why’d you call me?” you asked.

“I had a nightmare, alright?” he said, rubbing one of his arm, pulling at the sleeve of his t shirt. “I just...I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice for a second. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” you asked.

“What? No, seriously, Y/N. I’m fine. I shouldn’t-”

“Jensen,” you said. “There was totally that time I freaked out over a noise and you spent the night in my apartment because I was scared.”

“That was different,” he said.

“What? Boys aren’t allowed to be scared?” you said.

“No, we are. I just…” he said, scratching his head. “You aren’t leaving, are you.”

“You have a guest room. I’ll crash here, okay? If you have another nightmare, I’ll come wake you up,” you said. He opened his mouth but you put your hands on your hips, Jensen dropping his head. You stepped over and gave him a hug, Jensen tensing at the contact for a moment before he relaxed and returned it.

“You were in an accident. I couldn’t save you,” he said quietly. You looked up at him, Jensen staring across the room, avoiding your gaze. “The nightmare.”

“I’m right here, Jay,” you said, giving him a smile, wrapping your arms even tighter before you leaned back, picking him up off the ground, and let out a whoof. “You are heavier than I thought you’d be.”

“Well put me down, goofball,” he chuckled. You shook your head and slowly waddled down the hall to his bed, Jensen laughing his ass off by the time you got there.

“We are so doing a piggyback ride next time,” you said, bonking his nose when he was set down, throwing his covers back on him, a smile on his face. “Night, Jens.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You woke up to Jensen shaking you awake, eyes flashing open.

“Morning,” he said sleepily. “You got a eight am call time. Better get downstairs if you want to be on time.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, stretching for a second before you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, a bit of color in cheeks that was barely noticeable. “Thanks for last night. I mean, making sure I was okay.”

“S’never a problem, Jensen,” you said, yawning as you walked down the hall. “I’ll see you at work later.”

“Later, Y/L/N.”

You were taking a break between scenes on Tuesday, heading back to your trailer when you saw an envelope taped to the outside of it.

Your Secret Santa

“Oh, this’ll be good,” you said, ripping it off and heading into your trailer. You tore it open, pulling open a small typed out piece of paper.

Y/N,

I’m your Secret Santa. I know you’re new to set this year but I feel like you’ve been having a good time working with us all. We certainly enjoy working with you. You’re not only very talented, but kind and humble as well, something you may take for granted but I don’t, especially in this industry. Your personality has been refreshing around here and quite honestly, I look forward to the times I get to work with the cute new girl. Here’s to figuring out the perfect gift for you.

From,

Your SS

“Oh my…” you said, a knock at your door making you shriek. You heard Jensen chuckle as you called him in, Jensen laughing when you pursed your lips at him. “You startled me.”

“Scaredy cat,” he said, hopping up on your kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

“This? This is a letter from my secret santa,” you said, handing it to him.

“Letters aren’t a part of the exchange,” said Jensen reading it over. “Oh. Sounds like your secret santa has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Well that’s obvious,” you said, taking the letter back.

“Are you freaked out or…” said Jensen.

“No, no. I’m surprised is all,” you said. “What are the odds that someone who has a crush on me would be my secret santa?”

“About one in two fifty?” teased Jensen. You rolled your eyes and took a seat. “You think someone’s messing with you?”

“Jared does like to prank me,” you said.

“Yes but Jared doesn’t pull pranks like that. You got an admirer out there somewhere,” said Jensen with a smile. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah. I really need to figure out my own secret santa though before I can investigating who has a crush,” you said.

“Need any help?” asked Jensen. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, no. I can handle it. Want to run some lines?” you asked.

“Sure thing, rookie.”

Friday afternoon you got back to your chair at the end of your filming day, cocking your head at the green envelope sat in it.

“Oh, did the secret santa strike again?” teased Jared, laughing as you whacked his arm.

“Another letter? Lucky you,” joined in Jensen, collecting his things before he ran back to his trailer to change for another scene. You shoved your phone in your pocket and headed back for your own, tearing open the letter while you walked.

Y/N,

I hope my first letter didn’t startle you. I know you’re the kind of girl that’ll put on a tough face so I really do hope I didn’t cross a line. You’ll find out who I am soon. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole you’re cute thing since now you’re going to know exactly who has a crush on you and I won’t be able to deny it.

Forgetting my current embarrassment and most likely future rejection for the time being, I think I’ve found the perfect gift for you.

Have a great weekend, Y/N. You absolutely killed it this week.

From,

Your SS

“Wow,” said Jared. You jumped when you felt him right behind you, reading over your shoulder. “Poor dude thinks he’s already screwed it up just by calling you cute.”

“Jare, privacy?” you asked, folding up the sheet and shoving it back in the envelope.

“Oh, alright,” said Jared with a smirk. “I’ll just go on my merry old way then…”

“You know who it is, don’t you,” you said.

“Uh, duh,” said Jared.

“Want to help a girl out then?” you asked.

“Nope. I was given full permission to reveal I know who he is though because quote, ‘he doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo creeper’ to you,” said Jared. “Trust me, he’s the exact opposite.”

“Well you can tell him it’s fine. It’s cute, like someone leaving notes in my locker in school,” you said.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” said Jared, ruffling your head. “I’m heading home for the weekend. See you on Monday?”

“Have a safe flight,” you said, giving him a quick hug. Back in your trailer you worked on answering a few emails before you wound up hopelessly searching for Jensen’s perfect present.

Your secret santa had a crush on you and he’d easily found one for you. How come you couldn’t do the same for Jensen? Maybe you weren’t ready to admit out loud to him that you had a crush but deep down you knew that’s what it was. It was simple though, to write it off as having a good time with your best friend and nothing more. At least that’s what you’d been telling yourself despite all of the obvious signs.

Plus with this new crush out there, maybe this was exactly what you needed. It was probably one of the new guys this year, maybe Nate in production. He’d always been a little flirty in the breakfast line in the morning, sometimes showing you around the future set builds. He knew Jared pretty well and he was sweet.

“Rookie!” you heard, a loud banging on your door. You shut your computer and pushed away the thought, opening the door to find Jensen standing there with a cocked head. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was doing some work,” you said.

“It’s like after eight, Y/N,” he said. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back as the time had gotten away from you. “You work too hard, I swear.”

“I got distracted with thinking of the secret santa stuff,” you said, rushing back inside and flipping off the lights, grabbing your bag and locking up.

“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m fine. You had a long day,” you said, nodding over to where his car was waiting with Cliff. “Night.”

“Night,” he said quietly. You shoved your hands in your pockets as you started to walk, a quick rush of footsteps behind you before Jensen was at your side again. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. I know you don’t like walking alone to your car at night so I’m walking you, alright?”

“Alright. I didn’t know Cliff was teaching you to be a bodyguard, Ackles,” you said.

“Hey. I got scared the other night and you were there for me. I got your back too,” he said. “Besides, you never know what hooligan’s you’ll run into on the trek to the parking lot.”

“Oh yes. Good thing I got Dean Winchester to kick some ass for me if I need it,” you said, bumping his arm. “You heading home this weekend?”

“Yeah. I got a flight at midnight,” he said with a yawn. “Be back in Texas just before six. You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Unless you count watching TV and cleaning my apartment fun.”

“Maybe you can get your secret santa shopping out of the way,” said Jensen. “I’m already done with mine.”

“Seriously? How?” you asked.

“I didn’t overthink it like a certain someone,” he said. “Just get them a gift card and be done with it.”

“Maybe. I’m sure I’ll figure something out soon.”

Two Weeks Later

It was Thursday morning, the last day on set before the break started. You’d come up with absolutely crap all for Jensen, hoping to run out at lunch and find something before you gave him his backup present, a gift card for his favorite restaurant.

Your secret santa had left you a few more sweet notes over the past weeks and you decided that, festering feelings for Jensen aside, you were going to give your secret santa at least one date to see how things went.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Jensen, walking into your trailer as you were heading out to the store at lunch. It was strange of him not to knock and the look on his face worried you more than getting him the wrong present. “Do you got a second? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” you said, waving him to take a seat on your couch. “You okay, Jay?”

“I...here,” he said, pulling a card out of his pocket and shoving it in your hands. It was a christmas card, one that put a smile on your face.

“Thanks, Jensen,” you said, opening it, a plane ticket falling out. You caught it in your lap, glancing at him but he was staring at his own.

Y/N,

If you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s me. Jensen. I’m your secret santa. I didn’t plan for this to happen and I was a bit shocked when I pulled out your name but I thought, hey it’s a great opportunity. I knew immediately what I wanted to give you. A plane ticket to come visit me in Austin over break. I hated when we didn’t see each other that much over summer hiatus and I thought maybe you’d want to spend a week with me.

But you’d figure out who your secret santa was if I did that. But it was what I really wanted to give you and you don’t have to come down if you don’t want. So I figured once you would eventually find out who I was, why not man up and tell you about my obnoxious school boy crush on my best friend? I know you’re fully aware that I hardly ever make the first move, but it seemed easier to say I think you’re amazing in a letter somehow. The funny thing is, all those things I’ve said in these letters, I’ve told you in person before. But I don’t think you believed me. I really do believe you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. Not too many people are like you, have a goodness in them and a genuine care for other people. You take care of me, Y/N. I can be a weird goofball in front of you and it feels so comfortable. I’ve never felt that with another person outside my family, definitely not in another person that I have certain feelings for.

I hope you do decide to come visit and you’ll give me a chance.

You lifted your head when you finished reading, tucking the ticket back inside the card. You stood up and grabbed the envelope meant for Jensen on your table, spinning back around to crash straight into his chest, Jensen trying to make a fast break for it.

“Hey,” you said, holding up your hands, giving him the card. “I was your secret santa too.”

“Oh,” he said, opening the card. “It’s for the steakhouse. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you said, blocking his path out of the trailer. “I was thinking maybe tonight...we could go use that gift card on a date where you can tell me all about the stuff we’re going to do in Austin.”

“Really?” he said, everything so much lighter about him as you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Yeah. See...I’ve had this crush on my bestie for a while too. But then this secret santa guy was sending me these sweet letters and I swore I was going to go on a date with him because he was too good to be true. But it makes perfect sense now considering it was you,” you said.

“You’re really going to come visit me?” he asked. You nodded, leaning up and pecking a kiss on his cheek.

“Sure am,” you said. Jensen smiled so hard his cheeks had to be hurting. He glanced down at your lips once before pressing his to them, landing a gentle kiss.

“Y/N you want-” said Jared, bursting in through the door, pausing on the step as you and Jensen turned to look at him. “Well. Looks like you two kids are having some fun so I’ll just grab lunch on my own.”

“You knew the whole time,” you said.

“Duh,” said Jared. “I can’t believe she never figured it out.”

“Figured it out when it mattered,” said Jensen. Jared hummed and gave you both a smile, leaving you be. “So...what time should I pick you up for our date?”

“Eight sound good to you, secret santa?” you teased.

“Sounds perfect, Y/N.”

#jensen ackles #jensen #supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #au #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #jensen x #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #one shot #supernatural fic

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myrecordcollections · 4 years

Photo

What does Winter mean to you? What quality about the season that both begins and ends the calendar year comes to your mind when you hear the word? Probably you think of snow and frost and a nose-reddening nip in the air. And, if you extend the thought, you probably think of ear-muffs, mufflers, galoshes, and crackling fires on the hearth. Extend it just a bit further and you're sure to think of Christmas, tinsel-bedecked ever-green trees, kids laughing over new toys. And, what could be a more logical further extension of your thought than one which conjures up the bubbling, buoyant feelings one feels when the old year dies and the new year is rung in. The final extension, should you have carried the thought of Winter as Winter this far, will undoubtedly find you thinking of foreign climes where the sun beats down warm and Jack Frost is an impossible visitor. Your thoughts might not follow this pattern—but those of most people do. And, that is the pattern which composer Michael Carr has followed in creating his wonderful "WINTERTIME SUITE". All the changing moods of the season as have just been outlined are reflected in gay, melodic mood sketches in this delight-ful body of music. Winter is nothing if not an impres-sive and imposing season and Mr. Carr has made at least a beginning at summing up just those two quali-ties in his stirring and brilliant tone poem KING WINTER. The legendary figure of Santa Claus appears on the scene as Mr. Carr sketches musically a HAPPY FAT MAN (WITH A SLEIGH FULL OF TOYS). Itching to get away from snow and ice?—You'll find sun and sultry nights in WINTER IN MEXICO. But, perhaps the warmest spot to be found in all of the Winter season is with loved ones around a Christmas tree. Mr. Carr has conjured the mood magic-ally in his nostalgic HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. WINTER SETTING, another evocative tone-poem, recreates a very familiar Winter feeling—that of fields and forests lying asleep under a blue-white blanket as snow sifts down softly, that of an easy chair before an ember-decked fire-place in a room where shadows flicker lazily on the walls. Much the same mood is expressed in the 'haunting composition DECEMBER HAS A WARM HEART. Don't ask how it appeared on the scene, but Mr. Carr has suddenly thought of snowmen! Unusual? No! But Mr. Carr's own unique fancy has created a very original snow figure. He's a RED INDIAN SNOWMAN—and the music which describes him is a delicious spoof of all the rhythms and melodies ever created to make listeners think of Injuns. Fancy once loosed, there's no suppressing the irrepresible Mr. Carr. Next, he paints a whimsical musical picture of EIGHT VERY BUSY LITTLE REINDEER, who in the course of their visits and flights across the sky, get more and more busy all the time. A graver note is sounded next as another aspect of Christmas is called to mind in the haunting tone-poem STAR IN THE EAST. Then, Mr. Carr tells us musically about three familiar symbols of both the Yuletide and Winter in general in HOLLY AND IVY AND MISTLETOE. But, Winter definitely isn't just Christmas—and a very different quality of the nippy season is called forth in an amusing tone-sketch of JACK FROST, INCORPO-RATED. Although Winter still has a good two months to go from the date—and more—it's not inappropriate that our album ends with a wild and abandoned selec-tion called RING IN THE NEW YEAR. Quite aside from picturing the festivities of that joyous occasion, it provides a brilliant finale to our "WINTERTIME SUITE".

ABOUT MICHAEL CARR For many years, Mr. Carr has occupied a secure place in the popular music world of both his native England and that of the United States and the English-speaking world in general. He has composed and/or penned the lyrics for literally dozens of "hit" songs—among them such well-remembered numbers as "South Of The Border", "Dinner For One, Please, James", and "Did Your Mother Come From Ireland?". But, his career has not been limited strictly to what might be called the popular field. In the field of semi-"pop" and semi-classical music, he has fashioned many a delightful musical novelty and mood-picture—including the mem-orable "Black Mask Waltz". The present "WINTER-TIME SUITE" was written by Mr. Carr directly for recording and subsequent public performances by Richard Ellsasser. It is one of four seasonal suites de-signed for the popular organist by the composer. The rhythms, accents, and melodic patterns of popular songs often form the basic frame-work for these selec-tions, but the techniques with which those frames have been clothed carry them far beyond that point. Rather than being "pop", they are choice "pop" concert fare.

ABOUT RICHARD ELLSASSER The popular young organist featured in this record-ing has had a career of notable achievement for his twenty-nine years. He is the youngest person in history to have memorized and performed all 250 organ works of Bach and he was the first in America to do a per-formance from memory of Bach's "Liturgy". He has already given over 3,500 concerts in transcontinental tour and he is heard annually by millions more through frequent appearances in radio, television, motion pic-tures, and records. As a composer, he has won several coveted awards. Several of his compositions for organ have become popular standards of the modern reper-toire. Mr. Ellsasser has appeared in several movies during "rest" periods at his home in California and, in the field of television, he has filmed two series of pro-grams in which he appears as both host and performer. But, versatility seems the key-note of his personality and, in addition to all of this, he served until just recently as Minister of Music of Los Angeles' Wilshire Methodist Church. The upcoming concert season will find him concertizing in Europe and Latin-America as well as in the United States and Canada. In this specific recording, featuring music far from the beaten track of normal organ repertoire, Mr. Ellsasser has taken full advantage of the near-"orchestral" possibilities of the huge, magnificent pipe organ of the John Hays Ham-mond Museum of Gloucester, Massachusetts. The in-strument has over 10,000 pipes, four manuals, and 144 active stops. With this enormous potential at his finger tips, Mr. Ellsasser has "orchestrated" each of Mr. Carr's pieces so that the variety of voices and instru-mental choirs of the various sections of the organ are massed as would be the instruments of a symphony orchestra. The. result is a full exposition of the capaci-ties of a grandiose pipe organ so as to obtain the maxi-mum in color and instrumental flavor. The approach is completely orchestral rather than that to a solo instrument and the result is brilliant from both the stand-point of musical quality and that of virtuosic display.

A FURTHER NOTE ABOUT THIS RECORDING As has been noted, this album was recorded on the famous pipe organ of the John Hays Hammond Jr. Museum, Gloucester, Massachusetts. Much of the music made use of the Dynamic Accentor, a device which has been developed in recent years by the Hammond Re-search Laboratories of Gloucester. The Dynamic Ac-centor is an electronic device which, when added to a pipe organ, can more than double its volume, enrich its tone, and greatly enhance its powers of expression. The device maintains and at the same time enhancs the true pipe organ quality. It has been applied with equal success to instruments of threp stops on up to a four manual instrument of 144 stops. In the larger instru-ment, as in this recording, it has effected a far greater flexibility of control, allowing increased clarity in the use of various choirs. The Accentor comprises three electrical units, a volume control, an amplifier and speakers. With this aid, the organist can voice his instrument from the console to suit the acoustics of the auditorium. He is also capable of accenting any stop or ground of stops to obtain brilliant contrapuntal clarity. WINTERTIME SUITE—Richard Ellsasser, organist

Sleeve Note (Edited)

#MGM #Wintertime Suite #Richard Ellsasser #Organist

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mysticandskepticmuses · 4 years

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So because I can, I’m going to basically pick and choose from various vampire canons in terms of lore, abilities etc. to create my particular preferences for my oc Alexander. ATM, they go as follows:

he can walk about in sunlight for very limited amounts of time if he is fully fed, otherwise unharmed, mainly because of his extensive age, but we’re really only talking minutes rather than hours - it is not a pleasant experience and it’s really only a parlor trick he pulls out when he absolutely has to make an appearance or has a meeting that cannot be otherwise handled / postponed / etc. he can last about fifteen minutes before suffering external trauma after twenty minutes it’s noticeable to most anyone and while he could probably survive being stuck outside for a full day it would take years and ridiculous amounts of blood to restore his health unless some other magical intervention or extremely powerful blood was available to heal him. (i may opt for him having a daylight / daywalking ring or brooch or necklace at some point later but i haven’t quite decided).

he has super speed, strength, agility, has skin that is extremely hard to penetrate but not impossible, he can climb walls and leap extreme distances, he is capable of moving at speeds impossible for the human eye to track and he can fly but does not change shapes or turn into a bat or smoke etc.

he does not have to sleep in the earth, or in a coffin, but he does have earth of his homeland in most of his permanent estates and does have sunlight proof /fire proof rooms below ground in most of them as well, and does have things like sun proof windows / curtains / shutters etc. installed in his many residences. when traveling he has safe guards like his own curtains to hang in his rooms, will sleep under the bed or in closets etc. if necessary.

he can glamour / hypnotize / command people to his control, to make them do anything for the most part, he’s only met a few in his 4000 years that have been able to resist him. he cannot glamour other vampires unless they have fed on his blood / are off his bloodline.

he can create ‘ghouls’ aka humans or animals that feed on his blood and this allows him to better control them, manipulate them, for them to sense his intentions and desires if the bond is strong enough, to know if he is in danger etc. extended exposure to his blood concretes the bond of ghoul to master to the point that they would do anything to protect him / to make him happy (renfield etc.) even killing themselves or loved ones to keep him safe. this bond also allows him to sense their emotions, if it goes on long enough to read their thoughts. the humans / animals that feed on his blood become stronger, faster, more intelligent, require less sleep, have more stamina, heal faster, etc. the blood is an addiction and can lead to some detrimental side effects if he with holds it or if the ghoul is unable to be fed for some other reason - he often has stashes of his blood stored in his estates for servants or his current paramour in case he doesn’t return before they need a ‘refill’ - usually once a month is enough to maintain / further strengthen the bond.

he does have a soul per se but if his humanity / attachments to the world lessen beneath a certain level then it’s pretty much the same as turning off humanity or losing his soul and it takes about four times as much effort to creep up that ladder back towards ‘human’ than it does to fall down the ladder. he’s gone up and down over his many years but very rarely has he succumbed to the darker nature of his species for long. he prefers to hover at a middle ground, being more immoral than evil, content to linger in the very murky grey, neither very good, nor very evil.

he can eat human food and drink but it does nothing to sate his actual hunger.

he can survive quite some time without blood because of his age but he relishes in the act of feeding and will usually feed at least once a night because… he can. a few drops of his blood on the wound seals the bite marks and a quick glamour makes the victim forget all about it. he rarely kills anymore unless it’s necessary to protect himself, his property, etc. or if he’s entirely too riled up - though that’s a fairly rare occurrence.

his eyes are preternaturally dark, but usually that’s just written off as one of his traits - they can gleam a crimson sheen when he’s feeding or extremely angry or lustful etc. but it isn’t something most people see, or would notice unless looking for it specifically.

his fangs retract and protract at his behest, he has four elongated upper canines and two elongated lower canines.

to create a childer he must drain them to the point of death and feed them his own blood, then bury them in the earth and wait for them to rise.

a stake to the heart, prolonged exposure to fire or sunlight, beheading are the most efficient ways to kill him though he’s survived quite a long time and is faster and stronger than most of his species, especially the modern generation whose blood has been so diluted / weakened over the millennia. each generation of vampire created is a little bit ‘less’ than the one before it etc.

garlic, holy water, silver, crosses etc. have no effect on him.

yes he can have sex, no, he can’t father children biologically though he has adopted and raised children throughout the ages.

he casts a reflection & can be caught on film / photography / video.

he is affected by drugs, alcohol, poisons but on a much, much, much smaller degree than humans because his metabolism is practically nonexistent as he doesn’t actually absorb human food or drinks. the only things that his body can actually absorb are blood, so anything that might mingle with his blood has a very, very minor effect on him. human diseases by and large do not effect him as his blood is strong enough and powerful enough to simply eat away at any imperfections in any blood he might drink. he can become affected by drugs and alcohol in the system of the humans / other vampires he feeds off of and if he’s looking for an actual buzz / high he’ll go find someone already intoxicated or drugged to feed off of. while the buzz doesn’t last as long for him as humans, it still affects him until he has used up / burned through the blood.

he does not have a discernible heartbeat and he does not require breath, though he does breathe.

while he is not bound by the need for earth from his homeland for normal sleep and recuperation, if he is badly damaged or enters a state of torpor being stored in a casket in the earth from greece or in greece itself does increase his speed of healing.

he can choose to go into a state of slumber for long periods of time, with something of a mental alarm clock that is set for however long he wishes to rest, or until where he slumbers is disturbed, or if a mental call from one of his ghouls awakens him. upon awakening, depending on how long he was asleep, it takes longer for him to gain clarity and strength and he must ususally feed in greater frequency/quantity than if he has been awake and normally functioning.

he is not immune to binding spells / circles etc. meant for the damned / undead / or if the witch etc. is in possession of his true name - something that he has taken great pains to eradicate from history for predominantly this reason. he can be controlled via necromancy, though it takes a pretty powerful witch to be able to counter his age / power / natural willpower.

he has learned mental skills to block minor telepaths but is not entirely invulnerable to them especially if they are powerful or are making a targeted invasion into his thoughts

he does not have any ability to prevent dreamwalkers etc. from entering his dreams and often encounters ghosts and restless spirits in his sleeping thoughts.

I will say that Alexander is susceptible to the effects of vervain as seen in TVD - humans that wear it or imbibe it are protected from his mesmerism and if they’ve drunk it their blood weakens him / if he drinks or eats something with it in it will weaken him though not entirely stupefied etc.

Also he can usually sense other supernatural creatures as being in the vicinity by that prickle at the nape of the neck sensation but if in a crowd etc it won’t be immediately pinpointed. Generally when close enough to catch the persons scent the distinct elements of their blood will at least point him in the right direction - if he’s crossed paths with one he’s identified before. Werecreatures tend to smell like their other form, vampires especially metallic and don’t typically have heartbeats plus other telltale signs that might vary per subspecies (aka a particular verse canon), witches smell like whatever particular element they relate to etc etc. Dragons the same but with a distinct ozone / metallic undertone and so forth. Sirens, mermaids etc smell like the sea. (happy to adapt specifics per other characters canon or preference per thread BTW)

As far as cross canon interactions I am fine with assuming there is more than one species / bloodline of vampires thus resulting in different canons having different weaknesses etc. If Alexanders abilities and powers being different from your characters canon is a problem for some reason feel free to come talk to me I’m sure we can work something out.

Also I’m going to go with the fact that a stake will immobilize him (ie the originals in tvd etc) but it takes fire, sunlight, beheading etc. to actually kill him just because he’s literally fucking ancient. This allows for more opportunities w/ plots where he might be incapacitated etc. and actually works as a vulnerability imo rather than a bonus.

& If necessary Alexander can burn through stores of his blood for an extreme boost to strength, durability, willpower (to resist torture, supernatural methods of control, to keep his temper in check), to heal faster (useful for enduring sunlight longer etc), to move faster etc. But the cost is pretty poignant and if he burns through too much and his reserves of blood get too low he risks either being forced into unconsciousness with all of its inherent vulnerabilities or full out losing control and going on a rampage until he feeds enough to satiate himself fully.

#HEADCANON.#HEADCANON. ( alexander petrakis. )#DO NOT REBLOG.

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ianxfalcon · 6 years

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You should not vote for the Sweden Democrats.

The Swedish election is just a little over a week away. I’m pretty sure most people are already decided, and I’m pretty sure that if you have decided you want to vote for the Sweden Democrats, nothing I say is going to change your mind - because after everything they’ve done and said, if you still want them to rule this country, you’re clearly okay with it.

But I’m doing this anyway, because I need to say it. You should not fucking vote for the Sweden Democrats. They are Sweden’s answer to Trump, only there are more of them.

Let’s start with the most concerning question, namely, their idea of “Swedish identity”. Which they, in their manifesto, claim the right to define for you, as well as the right to revoke if you don’t fit into their idea of “Swedish”. (To quote the manifesto: “ På samma sätt som den som är född in i en annan nation senare i livet kan bli en del av den svenska nationen menar vi också att man även som infödd svensk kan upphöra att vara en del av den svenska nationen genom att byta lojalitet, språk, identitet eller kultur.” [In the same way a person born in another nation can later in life be a part of the Swedish nation we also mean that a native Swedish person can cease to be a part of the Swedish nation by changing loyalty, language, identity or culture.]) So if you’re not “loyal” enough to Sweden for them, they want to revoke your right to call yourself Swedish, and presumably your right to be Swedish. Because, yeah, that’s right - they also want to change the Swedish constitution to be allowed to revoke citizenships. If the citizen in question came by the citizenship by illegal means, they say, but with what I mentioned above, what is “criminal” might be easily changed. If they want to change the constitution, what else would they want to change? Oh yeah, they are also against dual citizenships, meaning that if you apply for a Swedish citizenship you will have to give up your earlier one, which in turns mean that if you lose that Swedish citizenship, you are stateless.

And wait! There’s more! They also have a very narrow definiton for who is Swedish to begin with. Sami people and Jewish people, for example, are not Swedish, according to former party secretary Björn Söder. Muslims are also not Swedish in their view, and in fact the Sweden Democrats want to restrict religious freedom for Muslims. Meanwhile, they want the Swedish state to be less secular and not “religiously neutral”, which should be worrying to anyone who isn’t a Christian. Then there’s the whole infamous “inherited essence” thing, which is also in the manifesto. According to Sweden Democrats, all humans have an inherited essence: “Delar av denna essens är gemensam för de flesta människor och annat är unikt för vissa grupper av människor eller för den enskilde individen.” [Parts of this essence is mutual for most people and others are unique for certain groups of people or for the individual.] In another part of the manifesto, they rather blatantly hint that criminality is “culturally” conditioned (”culture” is a less questionable word for “race”). They also want to cut all fundings for any cultural project that is not “Swedish” culture, but can’t define exactly what Swedish culture is other than “Christian”. (This, too, is in the manifesto. If you want to vote SD, you should read their manifesto.) They want to separate Swedish people and “non-Swedish people”. They suggested creating a “B-prison” with lower standards for asylum seekers who commit crimes (this is based on their theory that people come to Sweden only to commit crimes because Swedish prisons are nicer - this is kind of a weird statement to make because most asylum seekers who commit crimes are deported, either before or after the prison sentence). They also want to be able to deport people to countries where they risk the death penalty, which is illegal per the Swedish law. (Oh, yeah, and some representatives have themselves stated a willingness to bring back the death penalty, so there’s that too.) And they want to make it illegal to hide asylum seekers who run the risk of being deported. Now, where have we heard that before...? A lot of their representatives have expressed blatant racism and nazism. Like, a lot. Usually, when one is discovered, they are expelled from the party - but not always, it depends on who the person is. Despite the fact that they expel most of the open racists who are revealed to be open racists, there never seem to be any less of them. Each week, basically, a new one is uncovered. You would think that if it was just a few “bad eggs”, as they claim, there would at some point not be any more of them. And keep in mind that these are only the ones that are discovered. It’s fair to assume that there are a lot more who are smart enough to not say out loud that they want to murder Muslims and shoot migrants with an automatic rifle (yes, someone did say this; her name was Gunilla Schmidt, look it up!). Why does this party attract these people? Hmmmmm. Of course, not that this would change anything for the voters. Back in 2012, it was revealed that three of the party’s head honchos - Kent Ekeroth, Erik Almqvist and Christian Westling - had spent a night in Stokcholm running around drunk, shouting racist and sexist slurs at people, assaulting a woman, and armed themselves with iron pipes. They filmed it all, and that film ended up in the hands of the newspaper Expressen, who naturally posted it on their website. Not only did two of the people involved stay in the party afterwards, this also didn’t seem to affect their numbers in the last election, which was their most successful one so far. Another thing that didn’t affect their numbers? Party leader Jimmie Åkesson being recorded singing a song that celebrated the murder of former prime minister Olof Palme. Yes, this happened in 2009, but still. (Hell, if SD insist on bringing up how the Social Democrats were involved in eugenics in he 40s, then I can bring up how SD’s current leader sang Nazi songs ten years ago.) They are also homophobic and sexist. They are against same-sex couples’ right to adopt (and also single parents), and Björn Söder (yep, him again!) compared homsexuality to bestality once. He’s still in the party, by the way. They recently demanded a library that is used as a voting station remove all their Pride flags because the flags are “too political”. What else? Oh, yeah. They want to limit abortion rights, and they campaign for the right of healthcare personel to refuse to perform abortions (in Sweden, refusing to perform abortions is reason for discharge). They spread a lot of anti abortion propaganda. On top of that, they want to outlaw burkas, because limiting women’s rights goes hand in hand with racism. And they believe women have different roles in society than men (manifesto again). Oh, and when female representatives within the party report sexual harassment or sexism, they are not only kicked out, but also harassed some more, often with added threats of rape and violence. SD are anti-union. They want to reduce striking rights and believe that labour unions need to reach a “compromise” with the employers. They used to be against privatising and monetary gains for the public sector, like healthcare, but they changed their minds after increased contact with private contractors. Oh, and they don’t want Labour Day to be a holiday anymore, because it’s not religious in nature. They want to control the free press. They have at several points expressed a willingness to shut down press that criticises them, including state-run TV company SVT and, very recently, the radio channel P3 (the latter was because they roasted Jimmie Åkesson on a show specifically aimed at roasting the party leaders). Like, the moment a political party says that they think the press should be controlled, we have a problem, okay? They also don’t believe in global warming; Jimmie Åkesson called it “propaganda” concocted by SMHI (the Swedish meteorological institute). Coincidentally, they’re also the only Swedish party to vote against the Paris agreement. And they want more nuclear power plants in Sweden. They are also dipshits. Like the woman claiming that 400 000 euro equals - hold on to your hats - forty thousand billion Swedish crowns (one euro is worth around 10 Swedish crowns), creating a meme in the process. Or the man who carved a swastika into his own forehead and claimed that he had been assaulted by a bunch of “non-European left wing extremists”, apparently completely unaware that medical professionals can tell when a wound is self-inflicted. Or the local group who copied their budget proposition from another local group and only changed the names, leading to their propositon expressing a lot of concern for the countryside 700 miles south of them and suggesting taking money from a project that did not exist in their county. Or that time a few of them ran around in Stockholm hurling abuse at people and filming themselves and then somehow leaking the video to one of the largest newspapers in the country. Also, apparently nobody ever tells Jimmie Åkesson anything because every time he is questioned about anything, his response is always “I don’t know.” Oh, and since a lot of their representatives have been kicked out (some went on to join the even worse party AfS), they have left a lot of vacant chairs both in parliament and in local councils all over the country, meaning their voters aren’t getting the representation they voted for. Also, many of the still sitting representatives never show up in parliament or in the municipal councils they’ve been elected for. This basically means we pay taxes for them to not do anything. As a follow up to that, in some municipals they couldn’t find any actual representatives willing to sit in the council, meaning their voters don’t get the representation they voted for at all, just vacant spots that the tax payers fund. And actual Nazis have taken advantage of that by getting themselves voted into council on an SD mandate, and then leaving the party – or never being a member in the first place, since SD allowed voters to write any name on their ballots – so they can impel their own politics. Of course, since a lot of SD representatives have been seen hanging with actual Nazis, this probably doesn’t bother them, but it should bother you. Because fucking Nazis.

SD were openly Nazis when they started out in the 80′s. A lot of the people who were members back then are still there. Don’t you ever forget that.

In short: don’t vote for SD. Also, don’t vote for the Moderate Party, because they have said they are willing to work with SD. And don’t vote for the Christian Democrats, because they are like SD, only more religious and slightly less racist.

#swedish politics

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sanoiro · 6 years

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How do you find spoilers?? I think its so cool and we're all super grateful for your sleuthing skills but I'm just super curious as to how you guys do it!

Most people in the fandom are using some cast and common crew accounts. That’s fine but sometimes you have to dig a bit deeper.

How is that done? Well first of all you have to set some limits otherwise you start stalking people and that’s not a nice thing to do. Then you start snooping around on a basic level until you learn more on how certain accounts move, where and when they do it. Crew members are not always stable so some of them are doing a lot of freelance which makes them difficult to follow.

The most difficult but also most rewarding spoilers are given by the extras, some guests and the office crew which are are a bit like unicorns. We have heard about them we see them on screen but to actually get them? Worse to catch them when they film a Lucifer episode? Or when they can be extras for 5 more shows within a week or work in 2-3 shows per day? Now that’s a nightmare but @ships-sailing-in-the-night and I were lucky enough to spot the patterns so we know when they come and go as well as to where to look when their next appearance is close.

But no matter how many sources we get we can have about 5 min of BTS video to post, mainly my Aimee and some other members of the cast and crew and nothing else. So what you get basically is around 2-400MB of BTS material which you have to watch and see if there is anything important there no matter how small it may be. A name, an hour something.

Today I’ve sent all the files I had for the episodes airing as 3x20-3x21, meaning everything catalogued by format and source, to a really close friend here. Also I shared the files of 3x20 with another one. I tend to do that when I trust people or enjoy their feedback. You see the spoilers in order to make sense you need the right speculations.

So lastly allow me to tell you about how the speculation is done. We have 2-400MB of raw photos and videos. Great… But most don’t mean much and even if we share them a lot of people here tend to forget what we have posted when the time comes for an episode to air. That is why I post a Spoiler and Speculation post per episode.

The speculation is the fun part but also the most tedious one. What does it fit here and there, is it how the writers would go, does it make sense or is it just wishful thinking? How do we separate our headcanons with what we have in our hands to work with? It takes a lot of time and it happens in DMs, in the shower, while commuting or even when I’m dreaming… So when we find some patterns here and there we try to get some more pieces by researching the spoilers beyond the sources we have. That’s a hellish process as it takes a lot of time. Then by the end of the day we have some spoilers. Some are worth mentioning and others stay in the folders.

So as you can see it is a very tiring thing which is why I’m so paranoid sometimes over sources or why I get offended if they C&P my speculations and post them elsewhere. It’s basically like writing a fanfiction story. You notice the details and take your own path hoping that it will lead you close to your destination. If they do then great your expectations are met, if not well you just have the chance to explore things again. I cal it a win-win situation.

^Was this too weird? Certainly long but I hope it makes sense :P

#lucifer season 3 #lucifer spoilers #lucifer speculation

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vitamininfusiontherapy · 3 years

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Nutritional IV Therapy is the intravenous shipment of potent, healthful infusions. These mixtures consist of the foundation for robust health plus warrior agents that combat swelling and disease.

All-natural components consist of Vitamin C, Vitamin D, B Vitamins, Zinc, Glutathione, Magnesium, Folic Acid, Amino Acids, NAD (Nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide), as well as others.

Not all infusions are alike. We offer various cocktails that address the concerns listed above, as well as mixtures that go to bargain with:

mental fatigue, absence of emphasis, anxiousness, depression, addictions, collagen deficiency, bad skin quality, headaches, fatigue, discomfort, anxiety, slow metabolic process, allergic reactions, body pains, despair, exhaustion, and more

What Occurs Throughout an IV Treatment Session?

Before your nutritional IV treatment session, our professional Serenity personnel will certainly run bloodwork (if necessary) to see to it you are a candidate for this sort of therapy. Additionally, we review your wellness history as well as check your important indications.

On the day of your therapy, we welcome you to clothe easily. We provide a pleasant, comfy setting in which you may sit or recline as well as loosen up while getting the IV mixture. You will certainly discover healthy and balanced manages and also rejuvenating drinks in the spaces.

Some people choose to shut their eyes and pay attention to music during their session. Others check out, enjoy films, or deal with their devices. Your tasks during the IV session are totally approximately you.

One of our qualified and knowledgeable nurses administers the IV treatment. The infusion does not hurt. You may really feel the initial little prick of the needle, and you may pick up a slight weight in your arm as the ingredients start to move in. Other than those experiences, a lot of individuals really feel nothing.

Relying on which infusion you have picked, its distribution lasts from 30 minutes to 2 hrs. After the session, you are free to resume all your typical tasks immediately.

Who Should Not Get Nutritional IV Treatment?

Some people's bodies may not tolerate productive vitamin infusions. These include:

Expecting females

Constant smokers

Individuals that suffer from renal or heart disorder

Recently detected bad cells patients

People with particular genetic elements

Accept Your IV Treatment for Optimum Health

At Calmness Wellness, we advise our individuals to adopt an overall way of living of selfcare, avoidance, as well as useful practices. Combined with dietary IV treatment, these methods assist in optimum health and also health and wellbeing.

We urge our people to:

Consume 6 8-ounce glasses of water per day

Limitation alcohol usage (no more than 5 fluid ounces per night).

Understand exposure to toxic substances in food as well as items; limitation this.

Stay clear of processed and also improved foods.

Stay clear of sugar as long as possible.

Boost usage of high-quality saturated fats.

Move! (your body, that is).

The article “ Types of IV Nutritional Therapy “ was originally seen on Serenity Health Care Center

Boost your health with IV vitamin therapy at Dr. Amauri Wellness Centre located in the heart of Yorkville, Toronto.

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punkpoemprose · 7 years

Text

Siege of Arendelle- Chapter Ten

Oh hey look a setup chapter. Far more interesting plot things are coming, but for now, have some lovers in love. This is probably my only Elsa heavy chapter for a long while.

Universe: Canon- Post Film Rating: T (Teen and Up: Innuendo!) Note: Rating varies per chapter Words: 2273

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

The doors swung open, and Elsa didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. There were only a few people who would be so bold to enter the Queen’s private chambers unannounced, and if it had been Anna, she would have heard her coming.

“I take it you were successful,” she said to the wall rather than to the woman she knew was behind her. She couldn’t bear to turn around, to let her see the tears that had frozen on her cheeks.

“She’s safe. He will uphold his duty,” there was a pause, “I saw the Fjord.”

“It won’t hold them forever.”

Elsa heard the doors close and allowed herself to relax slightly. Her head ached and despite having just seen her in the morning, Elsa was touch starved. She shivered when a calloused hand went to the side of her neck, the space just above the bandaged cut the assassination attempt had left her with.

“Love you’re freezing.”

Kari wasted no time in facing her Queen, eye to eye. Her warm hands went immediately to the icy tears on her cheek and wiped them away. She wouldn’t hold herself back from caring for Elsa. She knew that what they did wasn’t something that would be accepted by everyone, but it didn’t matter when she was holding her in her arms.

“What’s wrong love? What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” Elsa whispered as she was lead to her own bed by the only person she could trust to drop her walls in front of.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Kari said in hushed tones as she sat her Queen onto the mattress and settled beside her, “but at least let me check your wound.”

Elsa shifted away from the touch when Kari’s fingers brushed against her neck again, touching the linen bandages that kept the injured skin hidden from view.

“The physician already saw to it. I’m going to be fine. Nothing happened, I’m just…”

“Stressed. And darling I’m sure the good doctor is perfectly competent, but I would like to see it for myself, please.”

Elsa knew that she was causing little ice crystals to form on the sheets, she could control her powers enough now to know when she was using them, but sometimes despite her best attempts the dam inside her sprung a leak. Warm lips pressing into her neck, rough yet gentle fingers unpinning her hair, and soft reassurances she could barely hear helped to calm her. Tears leaked again from the corners of her eyes, but in a deep breath or two she managed to contain her emotions.

“May I?”

Elsa nodded, breathing in so deep that it almost hurt.

Kari pressed a kiss to her lover’s forehead.

“Love you should speak. You know what holding it all in does to you.” She kissed along her jaw and to the edge of the bandage before she let her fingers move to the fabric. “Now stop me if I’m hurting you at all. I know you’d never hurt me, so I never want to hurt you.”

Elsa sighed and tried to relax herself. She knew why her guard was speaking so cautiously and giving her apt warning before making any move. Kari was the only one that would ever dare to speak with her or touch her without permission, but even she was weary when her self-control was so compromised. She couldn’t blame her of course, but it did have the negative effect of adding self-loathing to the list of feelings that were causing Elsa to feel distressed.

Kari sighed in relief as Elsa leaned onto her slightly. Her body still felt cold, the storm inside her still very much raging, but she knew that the best solution would be to cover her in warmth. To remind her that she was still very much alive and that when it came down to it everything was alright.

Her fingers slowly and cautiously untied and unraveled the bandage until there was nothing left but a wad of lightly stained linen in her hand and a sore looking line of red on Elsa’s neck. It hadn’t been a deep cut, but Kari still blamed herself for not preventing it either way. She wished that she would have just chopped the head straight off the Southern Isle Prince who had dared to attack her Queen. She only felt a small comfort when she remembered that he was rotting in the dungeon. If it had been up to her he would have been actually rotting away in the back garden to feed the pumpkins.

Her fingers brushed across the wound gently, the pads of her finger barely grazing Elsa’s skin as she admired the progress the almost paper cut like wound had made in the hours since it had been put there. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss above it, below it, and to each side before standing up to walk over to the Queen’s vanity.

“It’s already nearly healed darling. I’d say that you’re just too stubborn to let anything keep you down for too long.”

“And if anyone else had said that to me they would be an ice sculpture.”

Kari would have apologized if it weren’t for the warmth that she heard in Elsa’s tone. She just laughed in return and continued her search, tugging open one of the drawers and finding a length of black lace within in.

“What are you doing with that?” Elsa asked from her place on the bed. She had managed to pull herself together and there were no longer ice crystals forming under the pads of her fingers. She was instead, rubbing them on her skirts to warm them.

“In the morning you’re wearing it. It’ll do nicely to keep my failures hidden and it would do well to tell those bastards that they are dealing with a dangerous Queen who’s mourning the sister they had a hand in killing.”

“You didn’t fail a damn thing, though I appreciate the sentiment. I didn’t realize you were one of my ladies in waiting as well as a guard.”

“Well I’m fairly certain that they were all evacuated at your behest and as I’m already the lady of your chamber I assumed the responsibility fell to me now.”

“I’m going to pretend that that wasn’t a dirty joke.”

Kari laughed and walked back over to the bed, setting the lace on the night stand before she settled onto the mattress and into the arms of the awaiting blonde. She sighed, grateful as the woman’s hands worked their way to her sword belt and began to unfasten it along with the various ties on her clothing.

“You tease me for a dirty joke and then immediately start to disrobe me,” Kari said with a smile, “You’re a mass of contradictions.”

“Perks of being the Queen,” Elsa said with a long sigh, “Now I’ve had a hell of a day and if you’d like to enjoy a little time in my chamber I’d suggest you let me finish what I’m doing.”

Kari couldn’t help herself but to laugh. She knew that a far less enjoyable conversation would be coming soon, but if Elsa was willing to blow off a little steam so was she. She gave a mock bow, a difficult task in her relaxed state.

“As you wish.”

***

Anna was grateful for the wind as it made the bedsheets flutter on the line. She was quite pleased with herself as she looked over her handiwork, water dripping from clean fabric as the sun and wind worked to dry it. She thought, and not for the first time, that she never would have known what it was to feel the simple joy that came with a job well done had she stayed in the castle. It wasn’t something that she would have ever thought about missing out on, and there was a smile on her face that she couldn’t quite shake when she thought about what life would be as a country wife.

The smile slipped when she remembered how unlikely it was that she would ever have the chance to be a bride at all, but she didn’t allow her thoughts to tarry long. It was another hot day, and there was far too much to be done to worry about matters she couldn’t change. Instead she steered her thoughts to the tasks that needed to be completed before nightfall, and with these thoughts she felt a little anxious but not quite defeated. With some from Kristoff she’d managed to make her way through most of the washing, but she still had a pile of mending in the house that needed doing, and garden that needed tending, sweeping to do, and dishes to wash.

Despite the fact that everything in her life had been turned on its head in a single night, nothing had really changed for her daily schedule. Chores didn’t care that your kingdom was being invaded or that there had been an assassination attempt on your sister, chores existed no matter what, and no matter what they needed doing. Kristoff had known that fact to be true, waking before her in the morning to tend to the animals and prepare breakfast.

The bed had felt empty in his absence when she woke up, and even though he was working just a few feet away, the distance felt somewhat unbearable for Anna. They had spoken briefly, cordially over the sheets on which they had made love just the night before, but they hadn’t had much time for touching, and Anna’s hands were hot with the desire to fit into his, or to wipe the sweat from his forehead, cup his jaw in her hands, or to feel the muscle of his shoulders under her hands as she clung to him.

She blushed as she lifted up the empty basket from its place at her feet. She couldn’t help it, when she stepped her thighs ached, and when she bent she could feel her stomach muscles protest. They had been overworked the night before, and were reminding her of it now.

“Would you like me to carry that for you?”

Anna turned to see him behind her, his shirt off, using it to mop the sweat from his brow. She smiled and didn’t attempt to hide her blush, certain that the night before was also on his mind. At least it gave them both something to think about. When she took a moment to think about anything off their quiet little patch of forest she panicked and felt the limitations of her own abilities in the face of the crisis facing her home, but she still had him, and somehow that was more than enough. Especially when he was shirtless.

“I would have taken you up on the offer while I was carrying it out here, but I see how it is, only offer to carry the basket once it’s empty.”

She had to stifle a laugh that arose in her throat as she pretended to complain. Secretly she felt bad for being in such good spirits, but she had always been an optimist, and now when looking on the brightside felt like the most important thing in the world, she had no intention on stopping. There was nothing she could do right now, and she had finally begun to accept it.

He tossed his shirt over his shoulder and smiled in return. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about the basket.”

Anna did laugh then, loving the mischievous grin he was giving her. She wondered if it was because he knew that she had caught him. However, before she could tease him with the fact that ‘you most definitely were talking about the basket and back tracking will get you nowhere’, he was picking her up, wicker basket and all.

And her laughter continued, rolling out of her in waves as he carried her back to their home. He held her there, close to his chest, laughing in return as he attempted to both hold her and open the door, the pair nearly tumbling to the wooden floor once they found themselves within.

She kissed his cheek when he set her down, and then playfully smacked his leg with the basket, “Showoff!”

He blushed at that, smiling and laughing along with her before pressing a kiss into her hair. “If I can’t show off to you who can I show off to?”

“I’m sure Sven finds you quite impressive.”

He shook his head, and with a laugh kissed her cheek before heading to the door, “Not if I don’t feed him he won’t. Why don’t you finish up in here, I’ve got a lot to do in the stable and I’ll try to dunk myself in the river, so I don’t smell like reindeer. I’ll make dinner and we’ll walk to meet the trolls. If we time it right, we should get there as the sun starts to set.”

“I’ll admit to appreciating the gesture, but I don’t know if I’ve ever known you not to smell a little bit like reindeer.”

“And I’ve never known you to not be feisty,” he joked in return as he headed out the door, “but I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

She smiled at that, the easy comfort of their relationship having returned, at least for the time being. She attempted to burn that image of him into her memory, smiling and joking, as a cruel voice in her head said that there would come a day she would never see it again.

#kristanna #siege of arendelle #fanfic #anna #kristoff #elsa

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newstfionline · 4 years

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Headlines: Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Trump Leaves Walter Reed Hospital, Returning to the White House (AP) President Donald Trump on Monday evening left Walter Reed hospital in Maryland. Photos showed Trump’s motorcade leaving the facility at around 6:30 p.m. ET. The departure came several hours after Trump announced he would be leaving, while his doctors told a news conference that his condition has improved enough to allow him to return back to the White House. Before his departure, the president wrote he “will be back on the campaign trail soon.” About 30 minutes later, Trump was seen at the White House, taking off his mask. Trump will need to continue treatment as he is still undergoing a five-day course of the intravenous antiviral drug, remdesivir, and will have to isolate himself for a certain period of time.

Poll: Many Americans blame virus crisis on US government (AP) More Americans blame the U.S. government instead of foreign nations for the coronavirus crisis in the United States, a rebuke to the Trump administration’s contention that China or other countries are most at fault, a new poll shows. The poll by The University of Chicago Harris School of Public Policy and The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research was conducted before President Donald Trump tested positive for the virus Friday and was hospitalized. Although many see plenty of blame to go around and there’s a wide bipartisan divide over who is responsible, 56% of Americans say the U.S. government has substantial responsibility for the situation. That compares with 47% who place that much blame on the governments of other countries and only 39% who say the same about the World Health Organization. “It reflects a general lack of confidence in the way the government has handled the situation,” said Austin Wright of the Harris School for Public Policy.

Record-breaking California wildfires surpass 4 million acres (AP) In a year that has already brought apocalyptic skies and smothering smoke to the West Coast, California set a grim new record Sunday when officials announced that the wildfires of 2020 have now scorched a record 4 million acres—in a fire season that is far from over. The unprecedented figure—an area larger than the state of Connecticut—is more than double the previous record for the most land burned in a single year in California. “The 4 million mark is unfathomable. It boggles the mind, and it takes your breath away,” said Scott McLean, a spokesman for the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, known as Cal Fire. “And that number will grow.” So far, in this year’s historic fire season, more than 8,200 California wildfires have killed 31 people and scorched “well over 4 million acres in California” or 6,250 square miles, Cal Fire said Sunday in a statement. The blazes have destroyed more than 8,400 buildings.

U.S. Allies Worry the White House Wants to End New START Treaty (Foreign Policy) The United States and Russia are due to meet in Helsinki, Finland, today in their ongoing effort to renegotiate and replace the New START nuclear arms treaty which is set to expire in February 2021. New START is the only remaining agreement limiting nuclear arms between the two countries. Much of the delay in renegotiating the treaty was due to Washington’s insistence that China be included in any new agreement. But the White House has since backed off that condition as Trump has become embroiled in his reelection campaign, and now the hope among many U.S. allies is that Washington will seek a standalone deal with Russia before the deadline and pursue another agreement with China at a later time. The United States has so far only proposed new conditions for Russia, a move that some officials worry is little more than a thinly-veiled attempt by the White House to scuttle the deal entirely. As Foreign Policy’s Jack Detsch and Robbie Gramer recently reported, “former officials and arms control experts worry the administration may be seeking to slow-walk the accord to death by making impossible demands of Russia just months before the treaty is slated to end.”

Cinema-going collapse (Reuters) Cineworld brings down the curtain. Cineworld will close all of its UK and U.S. movie theatres this week, leaving as many as 45,000 workers unemployed for the foreseeable future as it strives to survive a coronavirus collapse in film-making and cinema-going. The world’s second-biggest cinema chain said the reluctance of studios to push ahead with major releases such as the new James Bond film had left it no choice but to close all 536 Regal theatres in the U.S. and its 127 Cineworld and Picturehouse theatres in the UK from Oct. 8.

Ebooks (Wired) Checkouts of ebooks from libraries are up 52 percent compared to the same period last year according to OverDrive, the tech partner of 50,000 libraries worldwide for ebook services. Hoopla, a rival service, said another 439 library systems joined their network since March, increasing their customers by 20 percent. Digital offerings are nothing new—libraries pay an average of $40 per ebook compared to the $15 an individual pays for an ebook, and can lend that one ebook out for a certain number of uses or over a certain period. The system is tense: publishers are worried that a switch to library digital books will cause the bottom to fall out of their print business, while libraries don’t like that pricing model, especially because surges (like the one seen in pandemic times) can get very expensive very quickly.

Venezuela Planning New 100,000-Bolivar Bills Worth Just $0.23 (Bloomberg) Venezuela has begun to import banknote paper and is mulling plans to print bills with larger denominations as hyperinflation causes shortages of cash, according to six people with knowledge of the matter. The central bank is considering new bills starting with 100,000 bolivars, the people said. It would be the highest denomination yet, but still worth only $0.23. The need for larger bills in Venezuela is a direct result of an ever weakening currency and inflation that ran at an estimated 2,400% in the past year, meaning that paying for a cart full of groceries now requires a bag of cash. Venezuela has been suffering from hyperinflation since 2017, decimating the ability of most Venezuelans to purchase even the most essential goods—much less save. The average family requires more than 100 times the official minimum wage to meet its basic needs. Authorities have turned a blind eye to a greater number of transactions being carried out in U.S. dollars, with Ecoanalitica estimating that some 60% of all purchases are now done using greenbacks.

‘Nuclear’ lockdown recommendation for Ireland (Reuters) Ireland’s government faced political and business resistance to a surprise recommendation by health chiefs for Europe’s first major second wave national lockdown to prevent hospitals from being overwhelmed as coronavirus cases rise. The National Public Health Emergency Team called for a leap to the highest level of COVID-19 restrictions, Level 5, late on Sunday, just three days after telling government the current Level 2 status for most of the country was appropriate.

Four dead in southern France flooding, up to 18 missing (Reuters) Four people have died and up to 18 more are missing in floods and heavy rain in southern France, a spokeswoman for Alpes Maritimes prefecture said on Monday. Southern France has been lashed by torrential rain over the weekend and swollen rivers have swept away houses, bridges and parts of roads.

Armenia’s Leader Makes Plea to U.S. as Conflict Rages With Azerbaijan (NYT) When Nikol Pashinyan, Armenia’s prime minister, spoke by telephone on Thursday with President Trump’s national security adviser, he raised a delicate issue: Why is nothing being done to stop a longtime United States ally, Turkey, from using American-made F-16 jets against ethnic Armenians in a disputed mountain region? Mr. Pashinyan’s call to the national security adviser, Robert O’Brien, followed an eruption of heavy fighting in and around Nagorno-Karabakh, a remote territory at the center of the most enduring and venomous of the “frozen conflicts” left by the collapse of the Soviet Union. The breakaway enclave, legally part of Azerbaijan but controlled by Armenians for the past three decades, has seen many military flare-ups over the years. But the current fighting, Mr. Pashinyan said in a telephone interview, has taken on a far more dangerous dimension because of Turkey’s direct military intervention in support of Azerbaijan, its ethnic Turkic ally. In a statement Sunday, the International Committee of the Red Cross denounced “a surge in attacks using heavy explosive weaponry on populated areas,” which it said “is taking a deadly toll on civilians.” It said that hundreds of homes, as well as schools and hospitals, had been destroyed or damaged, forcing families to flee or retreat “underground to unheated basements, sheltering day and night from the violence.” The conflict has set off alarms about the risks of a wider war and put the United States, with its large and politically influential Armenian diaspora, in the uncomfortable position of watching Turkey, a vital NATO ally, deploying F-16 jets in support of Armenia’s enemies.

Remote learning begins in virus-hit Philippines (AP) Grade school and high school students in the Philippines began classes at home Monday after the coronavirus pandemic forced remote-learning onto an educational system already struggling to fund schools. The shift to distance learning has been a logistical nightmare for the poverty-stricken Southeast Asian country that has long lacked enough classrooms, teachers and educational equipment. Nearly 25 million students enrolled this year, mostly in 47,000 public schools nationwide that would have to be replicated in homes and enlist the help of parents and guardians as co-teachers. A majority of families, especially from poor and rural communities, opted to use government-provided digital or printed learning materials or “modules,” which students will read at home with the guidance of their elders before carrying out specified activities. Most lack computers and reliable internet connections. Teachers can answer questions by telephone. Other families preferred for their children to get lessons online or through regional radio and TV educational broadcasts.

Pilgrims return to Mecca as Saudi eases virus restrictions (AP) A very small, limited number of people on Sunday donned the white terrycloth garment symbolic of the Muslim pilgrimage and circled Islam’s holiest site in Mecca, after Saudi Arabia lifted coronavirus restrictions that had been in place for months. The kingdom had taken the rare step in early March of suspending the smaller “umrah” pilgrimage, which can be taken at any time of the year and draws millions from across the world, as the coronavirus morphed into a global pandemic and prompted countries to impose lockdowns and curfews to slow down transmission. But as nations begin to ease those restrictions, the Saudi government on Sunday started allowing a maximum of 6,000 pilgrims a day to enter the sprawling Grand Mosque in Mecca. Only Saudi citizens and residents will be permitted to enter the mosque during this first phase of reopening, and each person has up to three hours to complete the pilgrimage.

#headlines #news

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bxebxee · 7 years

Text

and what a way to go

Note: written for @jeonalis because i love my college girl <3 Based on THIS THING. Names of gadgets and widgets and places and things cheerfully borrowed from all the nerd stuff I used to love many years ago. Mostly Ratchet and Clank though. I think there was also an unintentional fight club reference, but i’ve never seen the movie and have no desire to do so either. Points if you spot all the random nerd stuff I put in there.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Crack, Sci-Fi, Smut Lite (Diet Smut a.k.a. Lazy Smut) Warnings: it’s crack. it’s (bad, lazy) porn. Ah, actually there’s some physical violence. Word Count: 4225 Rating: BC, for bad crack.

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can,” you tell Jungkook.

“Excuse me?” he splutters.

“You heard the woman,” Jimin eggs him on.

“Hit me,” you dare.

Good entertainment is hard to come by in the Year of Our Lord 3333. Jungkook warily orders his holo-projector to turn off the hyper-realistic porn of two human women tribbing because it’s a re-run, and he’s used up his free trial of the sensory package. Somehow actually smelling the sex and experiencing mild neuro-stimulating jolts at key points of the adult film really made the whole porn watching experience better. Anything less was just depressing.

“Did you shut that shit off?” Yoongi asks from outside Jungkook’s bedroom. The door being shut is a clear indication that Masturbatory Events were happening, so the older human boy has learned to not even bother knocking.

Jungkook heaves a sigh because he doesn’t even have a boner. “Yeah,” he answers glumly.

“Is your junk tucked in?”

“It wasn’t out to begin with.”

The bedroom door opens with a force that only comes from a person seeking to pick a fight. Yoongi frowns at Jungkook’s unmoving, prone figure. “You do know that your holo-projector is still connected to the amplifier downstairs, right?”

Jungkook bolts out of his bed, face drawn into a comically horrified picture of contrition and shame. “Uh...” And Yoongi’s girlfriend was over too. He’s dead. More than dead. Deader than dead.

“Lucky for you my girlfriend found it hot and a little bit funny, but seriously...”

This is mortifying, and Jungkook swears he needs to move out as soon as possible - except he’s still broke and fixing hovercrafts from time to time wasn’t any way to make a steady living.

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and scratches the back of his head with a sigh. “I’ll... leave you guys to it then.” (He tries his best not to look her in the eye when she leaves. She fucking waves though. Weird.)

It is 127% because of boredom that he finds himself “borrowing” (read: taking without consent) Yoongi’s mobile airship for the express purpose of hyperwarping to Abraxas-II for a night of wild, youthful revelry. Much to his roommate-slash-employer’s dismay, Jungkook has no qualms about contributing to the statistics of bored young human boys wreaking havoc across the galaxy. If not now, then when? Humans did have one of the lowest life expectancies around, and he wasn’t going to wait until he was pushing fifty-five and seeking cryo-regenification to have a little fun.

“Warning, impending destruction of Abraxas-II,” the Computer tells him twenty minutes into hyperwarp. “Recalculating.”

What the actual fuck. Jungkook takes out his limited edition communicator designed in the tradition of old-school, earth-class cellular devices from the early 21st century. Thankfully he still has signal. At least the UMN was doing something good for the galaxy.

BREAKING: LARGE METEOR IMPACT TO DESTROY “SIN PLANET” ABRAXAS-II - says the headlines. Almost immediately, there are op-ed interviews from Voths and Cragmites who loved to, colloquially speaking, talk shit about everyone else - especially anyone else having fun. Jungkook suspects it’s not some freak meteor because the live feed of the impending destruction shows the “meteor” looks a lot like an intentional laser beam coming from an ominous-looking ship.

“Changing course to Abraxas-X,” the Computer lets him know in a cheery voice. “Estimated time of arrival: seventeen minutes.”

“Uh, Computer, I think I’d rather just go home,” Jungkook tells the ship’s control mainframe.

“Unable to execute command. Due to the projected debris fallout from Abraxas-II’s destruction, all routes back to HOME are closed until further notice from the Federation. We Apologize For The Inconvenience.”

Yoongi will kill him for real this time.

“Did you hear? It’s Abraxas-II this time,” Jimin remarks, wrapping his hand in bandages for the fight tonight. As his “fling for the night” you were allowed in the locker rooms by a creepy looking Agorian guard.

You roll your eyes because of course you heard about the “meteor” about to destroy another planet. The Federation really needed to get their act together. And where was Captain Qwark when you needed him?

“Don’t get distracted, baby boy,” you smirk, completely ignoring his question in favor of sticking to a topic you actually cared about - money. “Tonight is a toss-up.”

You and Jimin played dirty when it came to Abraxas-X’s infamous underground fighting cages. It was a pretty simple scam: Jimin fought based on a pre-determined strategy and you either bet for or against him depending on how it was supposed to go. Sometimes it made more sense to dope up on nanotech painkilers and lose on purpose, and you made sure to bet high and reckless on those days.

Win or lose, you and Jimin always made sure to come out on top. Sometimes though, Jimin faced odd toss-ups like the one for tonight, V, and you had to bet carefully based on Jimin’s condition.

“I think it’ll be a win for tonight,” Jimin decides, handing you the vial of unused nanotech. And herein lie the loophole that allowed for your cute little scam: officials only checked the winners to see who’s doping. Never the losers. This made it easy for Jimin to inject, inhale, and rub as much nano into his system on Lose Nights so that he could take a beating and come out normal the next morning.

“If you say so,” you hum, “And be safe.”

The Agorian guard opens the door, and Jimin pulls you into a kiss fit for the pay-per-view holo-channels. “Fight’s starting soon, lovebirds.”

“Thanks for the hot sex, baby,” you laugh at a smirking Jimin, waving as you exit. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Jungkook nearly pisses his pants when he gets to Abraxas-X because it’s the furthest thing from Abraxas-II. For one, it’s fucking cold and snowing, unlike Abraxas-II’s modulated temperature system where it was always tropical year round. He’s ridiculously under-dressed for this climate, but that doesn’t mean he can afford to planet hop until he gets somewhere warmer. He’s running out of hyperwarp fuel, and his communicator’s battery is nearly dead.

For another, it’s pretty much deserted along the landing site in a scary, dystopian kind of way.

“Oh fuck me,” he says, but it sounds more like, “Oh-hoh, fuc-c-c-ck, m-me-hee,” because his teeth clack from the cold.

He has a good seven percent battery left which he uses to shiver his way towards civilization. The first group of parka-adorned humanoids he enounters looks at him as if he’s a fucking Cragmite.

“What’s up,” Jungkook smiles in what he hopes to be something more winsome and not pained. “Hey, can you guys direct me to the closest Gadgetron vendor? My communicator is about to die.”

Parka One points to a cave with a fading sign that reads COLOSSEUM, as if the anguished shouts and curses weren’t frightening enough.

“I don’t know if they sell communicators though,” Parka Two tell him. “The guy’s an ex-RYNO dealer.”

What the fuck was this planet even?

“Th-thank you.” Jungkook prays it’s warmer inside.

“No Foul.”

You glare at the referee who refuses to call a foul on that shout. That V fighter asshole is very good at getting in potshots that look legal, and you don’t like it one bit. Jimin is getting his ass handed to him on a rusty copper platter, and you’re more than a little pissed off that you just bet a whole week’s income on this.

V, or whatever his fucking name was, actually has the nerve to wink at you. Apparently he thinks you’re Jimin’s fuck toy, and he’s trying to use playground tactics to piss off your “boyfriend” into making mistakes in the ring. Well, the joke is on you because neither Jimin nor you cared two shits about taunting, and Jimin was still losing.

Your gaze shifts to your partner in crime who shakes his head. He should have taken the fucking nano.

You nod slowly while tucking your hair behind your left ear and blink three, distinct times. The message is there: Next round, submission, tap out. It would be a loss for tonight, but at least Jimin wouldn’t be too injured.

In a fit of annoyance you leave the crowd and make your way towards the exit.

“You don’t accept bolts?” comes an incredulous voice by the entrance next to Jeff, the Gadgetron vendor. “How could you possibly not accept bolts?”

“Sorry, my sexy, muscular, human macho man,” Jeff purrs, “It’s either munny, gil, or credits. I don’t live in the stone ages of bolts.”

You blink when you see a human man fuming at the way Jeff condescendingly refuses to sell him a communicator battery pack. Humans were rare in these parts, so you’re a little taken aback to see one standing at the entrance of the Colosseum wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and a pair of black pants that looked like they were painted onto his skin.

“My friend, no- my boss is going to kill me unless I get in touch with him, and I literally only have three percent battery. This Abraxas-II bullshit is really-”

“Oh honey, everyone is inconvenienced by Abraxas-II,” Jeff smiles, knowing a wallet when he sees one.

Unfortunately for Jeff, you also know a wallet when you see one too, and that guy with the nice thighs looks like he could do some serious damage in the ring. You want him - for your scam, of course.

“Oh Jeff,” you call out in sing-song voice, hastily shrugging off your parka and pulling down your top.

“Whaddya want?”

“A communicator battery pack,” you answer with a cute smile and a wink in the human guy’s direction.

“Five hundred credits-”

You give him a long look. “Jeff.”

“Abraxas-II-”

“Don’t,” you warn, balling your fist.

“Two hundred,” he replies meekly, and you pay him using your card.

You accept the battery pack and promptly hand it over to the human who’s looking at you in awe. Hook, line, and sinker. And for your next act, you turn away saucily and head for the locker rooms, even though that’s exactly where you came from. You’re pretty sure the pretty boy wouldn’t notice.

“Hey wait,” comes his voice, and you can’t help but to smile because it’s all so predictable. “Wait, what’s your name?”

“Like that’s important,” you laugh, shooting him a flirtatious look. “You got your battery. Go make your call.”

You walk into the crowds once more just in time to see Jimin tap out with a sour look on his face. He looks surprised to see you still here because he thought you would have just left.

“What the hell is this place?” the human next to you exhales, looking around in awe.

“Welcome to the Pits of Abraxas-X,” you grin. “People beat each other up here for money.” As if it weren’t obvious.

“Well fuck.”

“Jungkook, Jimin. Jimin, Jungkook,” you make the introductions in a careless fashion as Jimin ices his bruises. You hand him a vial of nano with a frown.

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing Jimin’s black eye warily.

“Yeah, whatever,” you brush the niceties aside, “Now that we all know each other and seeing as we’re all in the at-least-fifty-percent-human club, let’s get down to business.”

“Wait what?” Jungkook frowns, looking at you with a giant question mark on his face. He only followed you in here because he thought you were hot and maybe (just maybe) on the slim chance that you might blow him in some seedy locker room.

“First of all, you owe me two hundred credits plus tax,” you inform Jungkook who looks like he swallowed a lemon. “Second of all, if you came in here in an airship, you’ll need hyperwarp fuel, which is expensive as fuck on this planet.”

Jungkook gulps.

“Oh, unless your boss can wire you two thousand credits of course,” you smile sweetly.

“Two Thousand,” Jungkook hiccups.

“Lucky for you I have a plan,” you continue, ignoring the way Jimin groans. “My fighter is going to be out of commission for the pits until the nano’s out of his system, and I’m already in the negatives for this week.”

“So what’s your plan?” Jungkook asks, already getting a sense as to where this is going.

“You are the plan, Jungkook,” you tell him, “I need you to play substitute for Jimin for about a week. Can you do that?”

And even you ask him, you’re not really asking him. You’re practically ordering Jungkook to be Jimin’s substitute. The “or else” doesn’t even need to be said because the guy has no other options. He’s stranded here anyway, in desperate need of cash to escape and already two hundred credits in debt with yours truly.

“I don’t know how to fight,” he sighs glumly, “I’m gonna get beat up a lot, huh?”

Your gaze drifts to his thighs and his biceps. “Jungkook, I think with a little training you should be okay. But yeah, you’re going to get wailed on.”

He looks terrified so you amend your statement. “Ah, you’re not going to feel any of it though. You just have to act like you’re in pain.”

“What?” he gasps.

You hold up a fresh bottle of nano. “I love biotechnology and messing around with this shit,” you giggle, “Everyone reacts differently to nano, but for humans, it’s found to be particularly good at repairing physical damage. That’s why it’s illegal in most fighting communities.”

Jungkook lets out a small, choked sound because not only was nano injections illegal in “fighting communities,” this shit was also illegal in five hundredish out of six hundredish planets in the Federation. Whole Planets have outlawed this substance, including his home world.

“It’s safe,” you guess, “From my experience.”

And Jungkook does not know what to say because it’s either get beat up by alien uglies without nano, or get beat up with nano. Yoongi would probably tell him to “just say no to drugs” but Yoongi wasn’t the one facing a just-under-five-foot terror in the shape of a human girl.

“How can I trust you?” he asks, attempting to sound cool.

And you really have to laugh because he’s too cute. “You don’t get out very much, do you?” you smirk, shaking the tube of nano before injecting it straight into a vein in your forearm.

“Here we go,” Jimin snorts, watching the two of you share in Prime Banter. Jungkook almost forgot the older human man was even there.

You let the nano filter through your system, and it’s quick because you’ve done it so many times now. “I want you to hit me as hard as you can,” you tell Jungkook.

“Excuse me?” he splutters.

“You heard the woman,” Jimin eggs him on.

“Hit me,” you dare.

“Wha- I- I can’t hit a girl!” Jungkook finally spits out.

“Cute,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “If you won’t, I will.”

And Jungkook, bless that boy, actually steps in between you and Jimin. “No, dude,” he says in his best strongman voice. “It’s not right.”

“She has a million little robot things currently filling up her entire body waiting to repair even the slightest bit of damage,” Jimin explains as if he’s talking to a little kid.

“She is right here,” you remind the boys, tapping Jungkook’s shoulder. He turns around and you promptly wack him across the face. “And she is still waiting for that hit, Jungkook.”

Jungkook to his credit really doesn’t like getting physical. He was kind of lying when he said he didn’t fight because he did learn some human fighting techniques growing up, and he could hold his own in a bar brawl. But that was always up against human fighters, never stronger, weirder aliens that could potentially kill him.

You piss him off though. He realizes belatedly that you probably paid for his battery pack on purpose, and he’s beyond annoyed because if there’s one thing he hates, it’s being used.

“You wanna get hit so bad?” he challenges through gritted teeth, and you nod.

“Go for it, baby,” you tease, crooking your finger in a crude, pseudo-sexual gesture. “Give me your best shot-”

Jungkook steps back, engaging in a standard stance and rears his leg up to kick you square in chin. The force of the blow has you slamming into the lockers, the loud metallic sound ringing through the cramped space. You’re dizzy and disoriented, but you don’t feel a damn thing other than excited.

“Oh,” you sigh, mouth curving into a satisfied smile, “Oh, fuck, you’re good.”

Jungkook doesn’t have a damn clue what to say.

Jimin takes a day to teach him how to play Wounded Warrior in the pits, and you take another day to teach him the ins and outs of Coliseum etiquette, frequently encountered alien species, and about Abraxas-X in general.

Jungkook is thankful that Yoongi is more worried about him being stranded on a foreign planet rather than angry at his missing mobile airship.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes for the fifth time. “I really, really fucked up.”

Yoongi doesn’t disagree. “Yeah, but you’re safe. And you’ll find a way of getting back. Just don’t die.”

“I’ll try my best,” Jungkook sighs, depressed out of his mind when he hangs up. His first fight is tonight, and while you’ve gone over the plan with him a million times, he still can’t get rid of the jittery feeling that he’s going to ruin everything.

“You’re actually perfect, you know,” you tell Jungkook. “See, you look really built and like you’d totally kick everyone’s asses. And they’re gonna bet that way. But you’re going to lose, Jungkook. You’re going to take the hits and get on the ground.”

“Can’t wait,” he deadpans.

“Good,” you smile cheerfully, ignoring his willful attempts to be sullen, “Because my estimations show that we’re going to make about five hundred credits tonight.”

Jungkook whips his head towards you from the news. Five hundred? that only meant four nights of this could lead to his freedom.

“Don’t get too excited, champ,” you tell him as you pat him on the shoulder. “It’s five hundred divided by three.”

“Three?”

“Jimin’s cut of course.” You don’t leave your friends out of a cut, even if he did fuck things up with V.

Jungkook looks like he might cry.

The first thing Jungkook notices about the ring is that it smells bad. It smells like the time when Yoongi’s Markazian ex-girlfriend’s cat-looking pet climbed into the exhaust vent of their repair shop and never came back out. They had searched, and searched for that annoying little beast, and they finally found it from the stench of the rotting corpse.

Likewise, it smelled like rotting organisms here.

Jungkook wants to throw up from the smell and from the nerves. The nano is in his system, and it feel kind of itchy and akin to someone tickling him from the inside. His opponent is an eight-feet tall Agorian boxer. Fuck Everything.

“You can do it, sexy!” you shout from the crowd, playing your part of adoring pit fangirl. The funny thing is that you’re not the only one yelling these sentiments to him. There are other pit girls screaming their love for Jungkook even though this is his literal first time making an appearance.

To be completely honest, you didn’t blame them one bit.

The horn sounds, and the Agorian charges at Jungkook. And instead of cowering, Jungkook charges right back, much to your surprise.

“Oh,” you gasp, eyes widening when he draws first blood, using the same kick he used to hit you with on the Agorian.

Jungkook’s opponent is unfazed, and sends a killer right hook at Jungkook’s side. The blow sounds painful and like it hit a bone from the nasty crunching sound. You can see Jungkook’s confusion because he heard the sound, and he felt the force from the blow, but there was also a distinct lack of pain.

The surprise fades nearly instantaneously and you only notice it because you were looking for a flaw in his acting skills. Jungkook launches into the routine Jimin trained him on - rolling on the floor in pain. The referee blows his whistle and it’s all over.

The fangirls mope around you.

“It’s his first time,” one of them says.

“Yeah,” another one agrees.

“He’ll get better. He has to. I mean look at him.”

You smirk when you see the referee shake his head and signal to the official that this match is over by TKO. Keep dreaming girls, you think. This is your house.

“Payday,” you smile, handing over Jungkook’s cut of the winnings.

Jungkook’s eyes go wide at the number. All that for taking a punch to his ribs?

“Good job out there,” you compliment. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jungkook wonders if he should even feel proud of this, but it does feel nice to have done something to work towards a goal.

“I have to say I was surprised though,” you comment, “I didn’t think you’d charge at Ortax the Merciless like that.”

“Just reflex,” Jungkook mutters shyly. He doesn’t really know why he did it either.

You wink, and watch as Jungkook’s ears go red in front of you. “It was a nice touch. Got the bets going up in your favor for a short while.” You pause, wondering if you say the next thing on your mind for all of three seconds before deciding that life was too short to play it safe. “It was fucking sexy.”

Jungkook blinks owlishly.

“Goodnight handsome. Take your vitamins.”

Jungkook continues the losing for two more days until he’s matched up with V.

You frown at the match up because you can’t tell what kind of alien V is because he looks so humanoid, but he’s not completely homosapiens either. His eyes and reflexes give everything away.

“You have to win this one,” you tell him point blank.

“Are you nuts?”

You shake your head. “You have to. We lost the shock factor of people betting for you. Now people are going to bet against you, and even if you lose it’s not going to make a difference money-wise. You have to win for us to collect the winnings from tonight.”

Jungkook swallows. “That means no nano.”

“Nope,” you confirm. “You go in cold. And you have to win.”

“Gee, thanks for not putting any pressure on me,” Jungkook sighs.

You don’t have the luxury of feeling bad because your rent is kind of past due. “Jungkook, let me put it this way,” you start, “If you win, that means you’ll probably have enough money to back to your home planet.”

“Where Yoongi will murder me,” Jungkook nods. He’s pouting again.

Your heart warms at how his expression is in direct contrast to how his body looks cut up and bruised from the fights he’s had in the past few days. Jungkook’s handsome, baby face is so incredibly juxtaposed on his toned fighter’s body in the best way possible.

“You’ll get another thing if you win,” you start, biting your lip and sitting down next to him.

“What?”

“I’ll kiss your boo-boos better,” you mutter into his ear. It’s a come-on, obviously.

Jungkook swallows thickly when he sees your suggestive expression. “Like a blowjob?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer, opting for simplicity.

Jungkook wins.

Jimin is not expecting this at all. He’s finally recovered from his fight with V, and after getting a text announcing Jungkook’s victory, he supposes a little congratulations is in order for the youngest in your group of scammers. Jimin breaks out the Ogre Killer from his stash of Serious Liquors, and makes his way towards the locker rooms where Jungkook and you would no doubt be high-fiving it up.

He sees the Agorian guards with their ears pressed against the door when he arrives.

“Uh-”

“Can you shut up?” Agorian A hisses, ear pressed firmly on the metal.

“Fuck, I just heard her slurp,” Agorian B giggles.

Agorian A glares at Jimin. “I missed the slurp because of you.”

“Slurp?” Jimin questions. Without a word, they unlock the door for Jimin to enter, and he sees you on kneeling on the floor with a mouthful of Jungkook’s dick.

The younger man’s attention is entirely focused on you, but you manage to make a sideways eye-contact with Jimin.

“Shut the door,” Jimin orders, glaring at the guards.

Jungkook gasps when he hears Jimin’s voice, but you pull him back to concentrate on you when you pull away to suck at the tip of his penis.

“Jungkook was really good today,” you laugh, laving your tongue against the underside of his cock. “He beat V.”

“So I heard,” Jimin replies, taking a seat on a bench and staring at the image in front of him. “Just to clarify, you texted me so that I could watch you suck his dick, correct?”

“Correct,” you answer.

“Correct? What the fuck?” Jungkook moans. You suck him in deep and let him hit the back of your throat. And just to add a little spice, you fake a gag. “Fuck!”

You make him cum in about sixty seconds.

(Later: “What do you mean you’re staying in Abraxas-X?” Yoongi hisses over speaker. He calms down only marginally after Jungkook tell him he just wired him money for the mobile airship. That wasn’t even the point? This Kid!)

#bangtan bookclub #bts writers #noonanet #CMBNetwork #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jeonalis #member: jungkook #genre: crack #jungkook smut

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rqgnarok · 7 years

Text

ptsd - peter parker

character: peter parker (tom holland, marvel)

words: 1496

warnings: panic attack, ptsd, kind of angst, SPOILERS FROM SPIDERMAN HOMECOMING

summary: peter’s aftermath of being a superhero.

The next few weeks after saving Stark’s plane and denying the man’s invitation to join the Avengers, Peter Parker seemed to have only one goal in mind.

Sleep.

He was thankful for his superhero life, really, he was. But for as long as he could remember he had always enjoyed being entitled to a good 8 hours of slumber per night, a privilege he hadn’t been lucky enough to experience for a while after he became Spiderman.

So that’s how he ended up falling asleep everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

The boy had the unbelievable ability to close his eyes and start snoring in the matter of seconds wherever he rested his head, either his bed or the library’s tables, he really had no limits. Peter had worked his hardest to finish up whatever homework he had incomplete from school, so there was really nothing stopping him from resting.

Except for the nightmares. Yeah, there was that.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired, because he was. God, he felt exhausted 90% of the time, his girlfriend (Y/N) was a living witness of it, but whenever he closed his eyes his mind would involuntary go back to that fixed point in time where Liz Allen’s father had buried him and left him to die. He could remember it so clearly, the lack of oxygen and movement, how he felt so panicked and helpless and useless with the weight of the world and his own mistakes on his shoulders.

He’d wake up gasping and crying every night, battling the sheets he’d be wrapped in as if they were broken parts of the building themselves. It really didn’t take a genius (though he was one) to understand that the aftermath of his adventures had made him develop a strange case of PTSD. He noticed days after the fight, but he kept quiet about it with Ned and (Y/N), the only two people aware of his life changing secret. They noticed something was off, the worried looks on his best friend and girlfriend’s eyes told him so, yet neither asked him about it.

So, what was the solution he found for his PTSD? Absolute no sleep.

Peter found himself living off caffeine and whatever source of sugar he could get. In the hypothetical case when he did fall asleep, he always ended being woken up by nightmares, what really encouraged him to remain awake. He thought he had it all figured out, yet he seemed to forget one small, little detail.

Humans can’t actually survive without sleep. That’s how he ended up with his head nestled in his arms and snoring quietly in history class. (Y/N), who sat in front of him, turned around and smiled fondly at the tired boy she cared about so deeply, quietly turning back to her original spot to focus on what was left of the class.

Gasping, he’s gasping for the air he can’t seem to find, crying and screaming and begging for someone to find him, while all response he can hear is Liz’s dad’s maniac laugh as he flies away.

Peter can feel the blood dripping of his scalp after the rough fall and the piece of concrete smashing his head open. He takes off the mask as if it would actually make him feel less trapped than he already is. When nobody answers his desperate calls he begins to cry, full and loud ugly sobs and gasps that echo through the loneliness of the night.

He thinks about May, who’s probably thinking how much fun he’s having at homecoming. Then Ned, his best friend, the man in the chair, who thinks so highly of him that it hurts Peter’s heart when it usually makes him feel better about himself. His last thought, or what he thinks might be it, is of (Y/N), the girl that had captured his heart in less than 6 months of dating and believed in himself the Spiderman project even way before he did.

Peter cries because he won’t ever see them again. Because Tony Stark was right and he is nothing without the suit, just a dumb kid who got too involved in this mess and now is almost dead because of it. Because he feels the darkness envelop him like an old friend and all he can do is fade himself into it.

“Peter? Pete!”

“Peter,” (Y/N) worriedly ran her fingers through her boyfriend’s scalp, in a hopefully gentle attempt to wake him up from the dream he seemed to be suffering in badly. The bell marking their free period had rang five minutes ago, leaving Peter and his girlfriend alone in the silent classroom.

(Y/N) had known something was wrong the minute he came back from battling Liz’s dad. He seemed content with his work, relieved that it was all over and he could go back to helping old ladies on the street find their destination and saving bikes from being stolen. And she had been happy about that, finally having her boyfriend back, except that in the course of the two following weeks he had suddenly transformed into the ghost of Peter Parker, in front of her but so out of reach from who he really was. Now, a tired, quiet, somehow distant boy had taken the place of her boyfriend, and (Y/N) had been too afraid to even ask herself, let alone him, why.

Now? Now she was pretty sure she knew what was going on.

After a couple more gentle whispers of his name and stroking and combing his hair in hopes of calming his breathing, Peter’s eyes snapped open and a big gasp for air left his mouth on a desperate attempt to breathe, as if he had forgotten how to do so. He fell off the small chair the school supplied and landed harshly on the ground, crying and breathless, almost unaware of his surroundings.

“Please, someone, anyone-” he chanted as if those were the only words he knew, scared and feeling more alone than any other moment in his life. (Y/N) had a few tears clouding her eyes at the mere fear on her boyfriend’s, reaching for him slowly and carefully. “I can’t breathe. I’m dying, oh, my God, I can’t-“

“Pete,” she called, soft and warm and there, nothing compared to the harsh darkness and silence he felt he was being surrounded off. Suddenly, just like that, the nightmare began to break. He wasn’t dying, he wasn’t alone and trapped in the remains of a building, but safe, at school, with his girlfriend-

(Y/N).

Peter was pulling her to the floor in the blink of an eye, hugging her to him as tightly as he could and sobbing into her neck while trying to breathe in her scent at the same time. Something that didn’t smell like concrete and humidity. She smelled like home.

“Okay, okay, you’re okay,” she doesn’t know what to say to make his pain go away, even if that’s all she wanted to do, and could only grip him tighter when he tiredly crumbled against her, completely wrecked to the bone. (Y/N) sighed shakily and did her best to maintain the nervous wobble off her voice as she spoke. “You’re safe, okay, baby? I’m right here, you’re safe.”

He nodded, mostly because he was still too shaken up to talk and could only reassure himself that he was in fact safe and with her by keeping his girlfriend, his anchor to reality, as close as he could. She kissed his forehead and hair repeatedly, and they sat on the ground of the empty classroom, intertwined in each other, until their free period was over and Peter was breathing a little steadier. He wouldn’t leave (Y/N)’s side for the rest of the day, holding her hand and with her arm wrapped around her torso, or any kind of physical contact he could allow himself at the time being.

That night when she sneaked up to his room, he told her about the nightmares, his own self form of PTSD that kept him up at night and exhausted him until he couldn’t avoid falling asleep and dreaming over and over again of his worst fear.

He wasn’t okay, and it was definitely a long way towards okay. The nightmares weren’t invincible, he wasn’t invincible, but sometimes when he slept with any kind of physical contact with his girlfriend, the nightmares felt somehow lighter, as if he could snap out of them whenever he felt (Y/N)’s grounding touch on his cheek, his back, his neck, his hair. She was the sweet dream he would always try to go to every time he slept, and even if he sometimes couldn’t help to run away from the darkness fast enough, he would always wake up to her, and that always felt like enough.

guys, guys, guys, i loved homecoming so much, peter parker is my soft boyfriend and i love him so much and i can’t seem to be able to stop writing about him. i literally wrote this at two am, almost as soon as i came home from the movies and while the film was fresh in my mind. i hope you enjoy, and ya’ll are welcome to tell me what you think!

ALSO, thank you so much for the wonderful response to stars!! i’m glad you liked it and i hope you like this one, too!

love,

- e.

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clausvonbohlen · 6 years

Text

Where I am; a manifesto, memoir, and auto-analysis.

I haven’t posted on here for a long time. This was intended to be a brief update, but has turned into something much longer, a sort of summary of the last 10 years. Perhaps that’s fitting, given that I turned 40 a few months ago. It will, however, require more commitment from you, my cherished reader.

But first, a disclaimer of sorts. This is about the ups, but also – and perhaps primarily – about the downs. And yet I know I am lucky. Indeed, I won a sort of birth lottery: I am white, male, educated, and have never suffered from lack of anything. If you don’t think that I should have downs, or if you think that if I have them I should not write about them, then you should stop reading here. This has been my experience, I promise to relate it to you with as much honesty as I am capable of. If that is not enough for you, then we cannot be friends.

This is also, in a sense, the story of my continuing search for happiness. When I say ‘happiness’, I mean it in the deepest sense – a life that is fulfilling, and meaningful, and conducive to continued growth and flourishing. There is nothing unique about that; it’s a journey we are all on, in one way or another. And I also feel a certain duty; if I, with all my advantages, can’t be happy in that deep sense, then what hope is there for those less fortunate? And if no one can be happy, then what, really, is the point of human existence on earth? Is that too grandiose an extrapolation? I don’t think so.

In fact, I do now feel that I am on the right path, but I lost it for a while, and I could lose it again. That’s what I now intend to write about.

I am not the first to have been at a loss, and particularly not at this stage. Seven centuries ago, Dante Alighieri wrote:

‘Nell’ mezzo del camin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura

ché la diritta via era smarrita.’

When I had journeyed half of our life's way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray.

In my case, I began to find the path harder to follow about ten years ago. At that time I was living in London, writing, going out, occasionally hooking up with girls, going to rugby training during the week and playing matches on weekends. For years, rugby had been a big part of my life. I was only ever competent, but since my work life was solitary, I loved the team side of it, and the physicality too. But then, to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it less and less. The training was predictable, the games often disappointing; only the friendships kept me going.

My life in London also felt predictable and uninspiring. I had finished one novel and had not yet started on a second. I was serving part time as a Special Constable – a volunteer Police Officer- in the borough of Wandsworth. It was generally dull work, though I had signed up for it in the hope of excitement, and to get me out of my apartment, which was also my place of work. Then the opportunity arose for me to change tack and work for a German film director in Los Angeles, as his assistant. I took it. From one week to the next, I handed in my police badge, hung up my rugby boots, and moved to America.

I have recently been listening to some podcasts by the psychologist Richard Alpert, later known as Ram Dass. My experience of ceasing to enjoy playing rugby – a very small thing, in itself – gave me my first inkling of the much deeper changes that he describes more dramatically as ‘the dark night of the soul’. This is from a talk he gave:

‘And you will go through a period, some of you have already done it, where you are horrified by your dying, the dying of rushes you were previously getting from life, that you tried to hold on to something that was giving you a rush before, because you couldn’t ever conceive that it wouldn’t always give you a rush, but it doesn’t, and the lag between when you stopped having the rush and when you are willing to cop to it, see, that’s how bad you want to get done. A lot of us are clinging to rushes we are already done having, partly because we don’t know what to do next, or partly because we are afraid of what happens next, because “lest ye die ye cannot be born again”… and that is the “dark night of the soul” in St. John of the Cross, where you have lost the fun of the world and you haven’t fully tasted the divinity.’

There is a lot more in that talk, much of it still mysterious to me. But I would have to say, other ‘rushes’ then started to fall away too. Drinking. The Cresta Run. One night stands. Not to say that they couldn’t be enjoyable on occasion, but there was certainly no reliability in it. Not as there once had been, and not as other people seemed to experience.

Recently I had a very clear perception of the diminishing returns from ‘rushes’. I was walking home here in Athens, having smoked a joint. The whole way, I was focussed on the next sensory pleasure that I could give myself. I got home and drank a glass of wine. Then I ate some chocolate. Then I surfed the web. The dissatisfactory quality of each gratification was almost immediately evident; the pleasure lasted just moments, and as soon as it was over, I was casting around for the next one. The balance between enjoyment and dissatisfaction has shifted over the years, or maybe I now see it with greater clarity. In any case, I couldn’t help wondering, how long will I continue with this pattern? How long until the dissatisfaction outweighs the enjoyment? And what then?

A Western psychologist reading this might think, aha, sounds like you were/ are depressed. But I don’t think Richard Alpert would have said that. Or, if he had, he would have attributed very little significance to the term. It might be an accurate description – in terms of box-checking - of a certain pattern of feeling and behaving, but it says very little about the meaning and deeper purpose of that pattern. And I am sure that there is both meaning and purpose.

But to resume the narrative – the narrative of my life! – I moved to Los Angeles and very quickly realised that I was completely disenchanted with both the industry I was working in, and the city I had moved to. I met many talented, attractive, successful people, but they all seemed so unhappy, so anxious, so neurotic. In fact, the film industry and the city – hard for me to differentiate the two – seemed to suffer from a collective neurosis. I wanted to understand it.

At the same time, I had started to realise that the traditional goals were not going to provide me with the ‘rushes’ I had lost. I came across a quote by Helen Keller that resonated with me:

‘True happiness is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.’

And with that in mind, I decided to become a psychotherapist. I applied to graduate school in San Francisco, quit my job in Los Angeles, and embarked on a doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology six months later.

At first, it was exciting to embark upon a new field of study, in a new city, with a sense of purpose. However, little by little, the disenchantment set in. Not so much with the absence of rushes, but rather with a sense that the material I was being taught, and the perspective I was being taught it from, were misguided. The information was accurate as far as it went, but it was based on a contracted view of what human life could be. I have written about this disenchantment in other places (e.g. my blog at that time, www.icanseealcatraz.blogspot.com). Eventually I found a happier home at Saybrook University, formerly the Humanistic Psychology Institute of California State University. Here I was able to take courses in the Psychology of Shamanism, Eastern Psychology and Existential Psychology, amongst others. I was encouraged to look at human life from a broader perspective.

I graduated with an MA in Existential, Humanistic and Transpersonal Psychology, then I went to work for the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme, a Palestinian NGO in the Gaza Strip. But with only rudimentary Arabic, I soon reached the limit of my usefulness. Following the kidnapping and murder of one of the very few other non-UN foreigners there, I moved to Beirut, to study Arabic.

My short time in Gaza made a big impression on me. Despite the poverty, the nightly sound of drones overhead, the sonic booms of Israeli fighter jets on daytime fly-bys, and the fact that ordinary Gazans cannot leave their tiny strip of land (no airport or port, closed borders), the people struck me as happier, on the whole, than the average American (yes, yes) in San Francisco. That impression deserves an essay in itself, and it is something I rarely talk about, since it is easily misinterpreted. It also has to do with the bonding effect of shared suffering and a common enemy (similar to the Blitz in that respect), as well as more tightly knit families, and minimal materialism. But in short, and as idealistic as this may sound, it made me realise that human relationships make people happier than constant material consumption ever can.

When I first arrived in Beirut, I taught English to Palestinian students from camps in Lebanon, through an NGO called Unite Lebanon Youth Project (ULYP). Then I heard about a vacancy for a full time teacher of English Literature, and also Philosophy, at Brummana High School, in the mountains above Beirut. I applied, went for an interview, and was offered the job.

I worked at Brummana for two years. Some of those experiences are detailed elsewhere in this blog. But in short, I was teaching subjects that I found interesting, to students that I liked. I had a lot of freedom and was even allowed to design and teach a Creative Writing elective that turned out to be more like group therapy, with some poems and short stories on the side. I was living in a beautiful place, with sweeping views over Beirut and the Mediterranean. I was doing the kind of work that is generally thought to be worthwhile, to accord with Keller’s ‘worthy purpose’, and to be fulfilling. And yet, having settled into the daily and weekly routine, it was not long before I once again started to feel restless.

I left Brummana, and Lebanon at the same time. I was not sure what I wanted to do next, but I thought that a cure for my perpetual restlessness might be a long walk, so I walked with Finny – my Lebanese foundling dog – from Salzburg to Santiago de Compostela, along the old medieval pilgrims’ route. The walk took us six months, and I wrote about it here – www.onehundredwordsaweek.blogspot.com

The walk gave me plenty of time to think. I limited my access to email and internet to once a week. One email I received along the way was from an old school friend, organizing a dinner for a group of us who had left school exactly twenty years before. It made me think back to that period of my life, and these lines from the Frank O’Hara’s poem ‘Animals’ came to mind:

Have you forgotten what we were like then

when we were still first rate,

and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth?

I was reminded of certain mornings as a teenager, perhaps during the summer holidays, when my body hummed with energy, and when the future filled me with a sense of tremendous excitement.

And I thought of Housman’s lines from section XV of ‘A Shropshire Lad’, lines that more accurately reflected my own experience of recent years:

Into my heart an air that kills

From yon far country blows;

What are those blue remembered hills,

What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,

I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went,

And cannot come again.

I had hoped that the pilgrimage would allow me to work out what I wanted to do with my life. It didn’t. Or at least, not in any long-term way. However, it did make me think that after almost a decade away from the UK, I should return there to spend some time with my parents, and also to put some energy into maintaining and renovating parts of our family home in Sussex. It is an old house with a lovely garden and I have memories of a very happy childhood there. But it had started to look a little neglected, perhaps more obvious to me since I would just see it once or twice a year. The place has given me a lot, and I felt a responsibility to it.

So I found myself back in a place that I loved, channeling my energy into a project that felt worthwhile, and spending some time with parents who will not be around for ever. Ideas of nostalgia were still in my head, but not in the way they had been during the walk. Now I became aware of the second meaning of the term – not homesickness so much as a more literal ‘nostos’ and ‘algos’, the pain of returning home (an insight that I owe to Rory Dunlop and his very enjoyable novel ‘What We Didn’t Say’). Because I did now feel pain; home was not the same, my parents were not the same, and nor was I.

At first I minimized all this. People close to me endorsed my renovation project, and my decision to spend time with my parents. I knew I was lucky to have grown up in such a beautiful place. But the problem was that I was struggling to see the beauty, or feel the luck. Wherever I looked I just saw problems, endless menial maintenance tasks with no end in sight, like one of those bridges – The Golden Gate, the Severn - where as soon as the painters finish painting one end they need to start at the beginning again.

What’s more, I was drinking a couple of cocktails every evening, then passing out as soon as I lay down. But I would wake up feeling exhausted and achy, and my tiredness would only increase throughout the day. I also felt a tightness in my throat, and a general lack of enthusiasm. I thought I might have contracted a virus, so I went to see my GP. He did some blood tests but couldn’t find anything wrong.

Throughout my life, books and literature have always provided a refuge. But no longer: I was struggling to concentrate, and I wasn’t enjoying any of the books that I picked up, despite the fact that they often came highly recommended.

In a last ditch attempt to lift myself out of this slough of literary despond, I made a larger order of carefully chosen titles, from Amazon. The first book to arrive, clearly addressed to me, was ‘What Matters Most’, by Dr. James Hollis. Bizarrely, I had never heard of it. There was no receipt, and when I viewed my account online, I found no record of having ordered it.

That night, most unusually, I woke up at 2am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I picked up the book and started reading. I read for 3 hours straight; it felt as if the book had been written specifically for me. Dr. Hollis’ thesis, based on his Jungian training, is that there is something beyond the Freudian id-ego-superego structure, and that is the soul. The soul needs to grow, needs to feel that it is expanding and developing, and if that does not happen, then sooner or later we will experience symptoms – lack of energy, frustration, anxiety, indecision, and physical ailments too.

Despite the somewhat pop-y title, Hollis is a serious Jungian analyst. From his perspective, the book’s mysterious arrival would not be an accident, but an instance of synchronicity. The following morning, when I woke, I saw a whatsapp message on my phone from an old friend with whom I communicate about once a month. He told me he had just woken from a dream in which I had recommended a book to him. I told him of my experience of the night, and recommended Hollis’ book to him.

‘What Matters Most’ made me realise that my malaise had a meaning, that my body was the means through which the soul and the unconscious were trying to communicate with me, and that those deepest parts of me were frustrated because they did not feel they were growing. Most people my age are married and have families; many have their own businesses. These are all creative acts. I, on the other hand, was trying to patch up my childhood, to preserve my parents’ vision, and – essentially - to hold onto the past. The book also drew my attention to the way that it can often be fear – fear of change, fear of failure, fear of what other people will think – that holds us back from being all that we can be.

In the summer, I attended an Ayahuasca retreat in Scotland, something I was quite apprehensive about, since I have long questioned the value of de-contextualised shamanism. But the retreat was guided by an inspiring individual who was himself deeply rooted in a specific tradition, and it rekindled my own interest in plant medicine and Amazonian shamanism. I felt that the time had come to delve deeper into that world, so I interviewed the shaman about where it might still be possible to find uncontaminated shamanic practices in the Amazon (without risking one’s life), and based on his information, I planned a trip for the end of the year.

I went to Peru with my mind open; I wanted to see whether it would be possible for me to communicate with the plants in the way that curanderos and vegetalistas describe. I took Ayahuasca twice a week over a period of two months, as described in previous posts on this blog, but the plants did not communicate with me. Or, at least, that is what I thought at the time. They certainly did not teach me their healing and medicinal purposes, nor the songs through which this information is said to be relayed. But, in restrospect, I think they may have had a message for me, namely that it was not the right time for me to explore that world. I needed to ground myself in this world more firmly first, to feel that I had a home of my own, an Archimedean point.

My Ayahuasca trips are rarely very visual, but one mental image that kept coming back to me was of an empty white room, with a view of the blue sky and the blue sea. At the time, I thought this was probably a reaction to my life in Sussex where, in addition to feeling lethargic and unwell, I had felt oppressed by ‘stuff’ – the accumulated clutter of my lifetime, and my parents’ lifetime, and the clutter of previous generations. So many things, and they weighed on me, as a sense of family history also weighed on me. The empty white room was the opposite of that: a space in which to let go, to de-clutter, and to create.

I was able to experience a pared down, de-cluttered life in a Zen monastery in Japan some months later, and I found it very rewarding. But it was brutal too – the monastery was freezing, I was not allowed to wear socks or a hat, and the obligatory 4.30am morning meditation was followed by hours of floor cleaning, with a cold wet rag. But I soon felt calmer than I had done for years, though I also realised that I was not ready to make a longterm commitment to that kind of a life, though at some future point, who knows.

Back in Europe some months later, I joined a few friends on a short hiking holiday in Crete, inspired by the Patrick Leigh-Fermor and Stanley Moss’ kidnapping of the German General Kreipe in 1942, and their subsequent march across the mountainous centre of the island. General Kreipe had been dragging his feet, expecting to be rescued at any moment. On the first morning of his abduction he observed the sunrise on Mt. Ida and quoted the first verse of Horace’s ‘Ode to Thaliarcus’, describing a similar sunrise on Mt. Soractus in the Apennines. When he had finished, Patrick Leigh-Fermor – a classicist blessed with an excellent memory - quoted the remaining verses. The General was impressed and stopped dragging his feet from that point on. In his memoir, Patrick Leigh Fermor wrote, “…for a long moment, the war had ceased to exist. We had both drunk at the same fountains long before.”

I was blown away by the area of Crete that we were hiking through. The walk across Europe had re-sensitized me to the beauty of landscape, but these Cretan mountains were, I felt, the landscapes that I wished to get to know deeply, and one day to paint.

I won’t pretend that I found the actual empty white room of my Ayahuasca visions, but this place definitely had the right feel. It was here that I could imagine building that white room for myself, with its view of the sea and the sky.

I returned to the UK with a sense of excitement about the future that I had not felt for some time. I was finally finding some direction, even a sense of purpose.

Some readers may be thinking, fine, but what about teaching? What about psychotherapy? What about helping people? Maybe you should be less selfish, maybe if you had committed to those things, you would have found that sense of purpose?

I hear you, friend reader! But I felt I did commit, to the extent that I was capable at those times, and yet I was restless. Not despairing, but not exactly happy either. Does that matter? Should it not be enough just to feel that you are doing something worthwhile? I think it does matter. Happiness creates ripples, and if you are happy in yourself, then that will have a positive effect on all the interactions you have, and on all the people you meet. The uplifting interaction with a stranger in a supermarket may have more impact than the worthiest acts that are performed by someone who is profoundly miserable. We are not the originators of love or positivity; rather, we are conduits for those qualities, and we channel them most effectively when we are happy in ourselves.

Happiness, in this deep sense, is not a purely selfish thing. It benefits others too, and in some mysterious way it may even shape the world we live in. So do what makes you happy, but make sure you understand the distinction between sensory gratification and real happiness.

But isn’t the pursuit of happiness always self-defeating? We are happy until we ask ourselves whether we are happy, and then we realise we could be happier, and that makes us unhappy… Happiness is, in the words of Oliver Burkeman, a ‘delicate two-step’: aim at it too directly, and you will lose it.

There is truth in that. But at the same time, I think that there are certain constituents of happiness that will never let us down. Two of the most important, as Freud stated, are work and love. Work, at its best, should provide a sense of purpose, and also allow us to experience a state of flow, that sense of being fully absorbed in a task. Seen in this light, work can be very similar to concentration meditation; it allows the restless mind to settle.

To be in that state of flow and get paid for it is perhaps the holy grail. But even if we don’t get paid for it, we still need it. We might then describe it as a ‘hobby’, or perhaps it is simply unpaid work (like my mother ‘working’ in the garden), but the important thing is that we are having that experience.

We also need to feel love, or else we become brittle and emotionally atrophied. But that need not necessarily be romantic love. We can love our friends, or music, or a pet, or nature, or God; the important thing is to remove the blockages from that channel.

To return to my own story, I have known for some time that I need to rediscover the state of flow. My walk across Europe had reminded me of the power of landscape to move me. Crete’s rugged beauty impressed me deeply. When I was younger, I used to paint a lot. But in my 20s and early 30s, I did not find it dynamic enough. Now I think differently; the calming, meditative quality holds an appeal for me that I was not conscious of before. I made up my mind to return to Crete and devote myself to painting landscapes. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed the right thing to do.

I remembered a piece of advice from a letter that Hunter S. Thompson wrote to his friend Hume Logan. Logan requests career advice, to which Thompson replies: ‘…beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life.’

When I imagine my future, I do not aspire to being surrounded by flapping assistants, chauffeured from meeting to meeting, plied with rich food and drink, signing cheques for the maintenance of houses and expensive toys. And estranged wives. No, I would much rather spend time in the landscapes that I love, building a relationship with them through meticulous observation, and recording that relationship through the act of painting. A direct relationship, not mediated through a digital screen, and – crucially – free from distractions. Hemingway said: ‘The man who has begun to live more seriously within begins to live more simply without.’ I want to live seriously within.

I have also been inspired by the film Jiro Dreams of Sushi, about an elderly Japanese sushi chef called Jiro. In my own life, I have not observed many people ageing well, by which I mean being happy and at peace with themselves and the world as they grow old. Jiro, though rather a tyrant in his restaurant, seems to me to be that rare bird: a happy old man. He still works every day, as he has done since his earliest youth, and he is driven by the same goal: to make the perfect mouthful of sushi, just a tiny fraction of a degree more delicious than anything he has ever made before. He has no interest in retirement, or even in holidays; what can they offer a man with so clear a sense of purpose?

Jiro is an artist. Perhaps he is lucky to have been born with a fine palate, and with so clear a sense of purpose. But perhaps we can decide on our purpose, and thereby make our own luck.

In the Amazon, the plants had not spoken to me, at least not through the medium of song. And yet, more and more, I feel that they are alive, and maybe that they do have spirits. Indeed, that all of nature is animate in that way. Painting is a way to concentrate on the natural world, and to explore these intuitions more deeply.

I know that landscape painting is not really part of the dialogue of contemporary art, but that doesn’t bother me. In fact, I think I prefer it that way. If you have got this far, you will have realised that I prefer the monologue anyway. In addition, landscape painting could have a moral dimension, since the more we appreciate the beauty and harmony of nature, the less likely we are to destroy it. Painting has the capacity not only to open the eyes of the artist, but of the viewer too. That is a worthy goal; to communicate something of the vision and the sensitivity.

Finally, perhaps I am starting to see painting as a secular form of worship; through it, I can express my gratitude for creation, and for the fact that I am here to appreciate it. And maybe that is our collective human purpose: we are nature becoming conscious of itself.

Back in London, I started taking Greek lessons at the Hellenic Centre. Then I bought a second-hand motorbike, tidied my affairs, and set off by motorbike for Crete. I took the ferry to Santander, arriving by night in the middle of a rainstorm, then crossed the north of Spain to Barcelona. I stayed with my old friend F, whom I had got to know 20 years before, when we both played for a rugby team in Barcelona. On the last night of my visit, his wife gave birth, two weeks early. He just managed to get her to the hospital in time, and I said goodbye to him and his wife, and their newborn baby, in the maternity ward the following morning.

I spent a week with other friends in France, then continued into Italy in the crucible of a heat-wave. Biking long distances is tiring at the best of times, but exhausting in 42 degrees, when the heat radiates off the motorway and you are clad in black leather. I had planned to bike through the Balkans, but there were wildfires in Albania, and I was finding it increasingly tough going. I crossed the north of Italy and then decided to take the ferry from Ancona to Greece. While biking the final leg from Patras to Athens, I felt euphoric; I had a strange sense of having finally come home. I thought of Cavafy’s poem ‘Ithaka’:

Keep Ithaka always in your mind. Arriving there is what you are destined for. But do not hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you are old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you have gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Greece is not my native soil, but I am beginning to feel that my journey has been a long one. Perhaps that is enough; anywhere can be home if we choose to make it so.

Except for the touristy areas, Athens in August is something of a ghost town. I only stayed a couple of days before continuing to Crete. I was afraid that it would not live up to my idealised recollections, but I need not have worried. I returned to the area I had visited in the spring, and it was as wild and beautiful as I remembered. I hiked, swam in the sea, painted watercolours, and observed the old men in the taverna at night. But despite the inspiring landscape, I soon realised that, at this point in my life, I would find life in this remote area of Crete too lonely. In addition, I am still a very long way from possessing the technical skill to paint the kind of pictures that I have in my head.

In September I returned to Athens. I started a course of intensive Greek lessons, and I spent my days crisscrossing the city on foot, getting to know different areas and looking for an apartment to rent, as well as a space to use as a painting studio. It was still very hot, and at times the language barrier could make life difficult. But things seemed to fall into place: I met good people and found spaces that far exceeded my hopes, both in terms of charm and affordability. I felt that I was experiencing first-hand my theory about positive energy: when you are happy and open to the universe and to others, then good things often fall into your lap. It seems more than just coincidence.

There are many things I love about Athens. Above all, I feel that people are less neurotic than in any other place I have ever lived. There is not the same restless quality. At times this can be challenging too; it often makes me realise how impatient I am, but that is a valuable lesson. At least once a day I have to say to myself, ‘You can’t hurry the Greeks.’

I love the absence of billboards and advertising in the city generally, and particularly on the underground. My mental space is more protected here, my consciousness not constantly invaded by disingenuous images telling me what products I need to buy in order to be happy, or what I should look like, or the kind of life that I should aspire towards. It’s very pleasant, but most Greeks are unaware of their good fortune in this respect, because it is all they know. I am tempted to draw a parallel with colour perception in the ancient world. There is no word for blue in ancient Greek, perhaps because, with all that immensity of sea and sky, the colour was so ubiquitous that the ancient eye was not trained to pick it out.

I love the fact that the bars and cafés are crowded with cheerful, attractive Athenians who will sip from one or two glasses of iced espresso all night. Their pleasure comes from conversation, from each other, and not from getting wasted.

I love the fact that this is not a nanny state. Occasionally you will see someone riding a motorbike, no helmet, cigarette between his lips, holding a phone to his ear, and with a dog perched on the fuel tank. Dangerous, yes, but free too.

There are many beautiful Greek girls. In some ways they are similar to Lebanese girls, but they are more natural looking. I love the sound of the language as they speak it. It has a delicate, tinkling quality, like a clear mountain stream.

I love the exaggerated respect that you are shown when you have to enter a PIN number anywhere. As soon as a shopkeeper or waiter has given you the portable terminal, he will retreat into a corner, closing his eyes and turning his back, as if you were handling a vial of anthrax rather than a credit card.

I love the fact that in a spinning class I went to, the strapping instructor came round before and after the class offering everyone chocolate truffles; during the class, he projected a sequence of Victoria’s Secret videos, which was an excellent distraction for me, and which the rest of the class – all girls - appeared to not to mind.

As a single person, I love the fact that in Greek the same word (‘ελευθερος’) means both ‘single’ and ‘free’.

I love the fact that internet dating has not caught on in Athens. Greeks prefer to speak to each other in person, and will still start conversations with strangers in a queue, rather than focus all their attention on their telephones. They think that there is something a little bit sad about conducting the affairs of the heart through an app, even when real world interactions mean running the risk of rejection. And, because they are less neurotic, the belief that the perfect partner is just one more swipe away has less traction.

Of course there have been challenging days too, particularly while I was struggling to find a place to live, owing to the boom in Airbnbs, and consequent dearth of furnished apartments on the domestic market. But often things felt not quite real. On one occasion, when I was frustrated after yet another rejection from a prospective landlord, I looked up to see a clown on an oversize unicycle cycling down hectic Piraeus street; as if the universe were telling me to take a deep breath and lighten up.

That is a just a very small moment, but it does tap into a much bigger question about the reality of the external world. For some time now I have wondered about the extent to which we are involved in the co-creation of what we perceive to be reality. I don’t think it is possible to take psychedelics and shamanic entheogens without at some point asking oneself these questions.

There is a famous thought experiment in philosophy: can we ever know that our experience is what we believe it to be, or could we just be disembodied brains in vats having our neuronal circuitry manipulated by mad scientists? In light of last year’s American election, when a clown in a toupée was elected President of the United States, the brain-in-a-vat theory suddenly seems quite plausible.

I am neither a solipsist nor an idealist in the Berkeleyan sense: I do believe that other people exist in meaningful ways, and not just because I have an idea of them. However, what interests me is the extent to which my ideas shape the experiences I have, and how they contribute to creating my ‘reality’. This is a big, and possibly unanswerable, question for metaphysics, but its implications are perhaps most evident in the field of psychology, where it has arisen in an pointed way for me in the context of making choices.

Choice is a sword with two very sharp edges. One the one hand, choice is a luxury and a privilege; the richer, more talented, more successful a person is, the more choice they often have. But on the other hand, it seems to me that nothing is quite as likely to cause neurosis, dissatisfaction, and avoidable suffering. To give a very simple example, I can find myself paralyzed before a supermarket shelf of different washing-up liquids: which is the best? Which is the cheapest? Which smell do I like best? Which colour do I prefer? What can this one do that the others can’t? On a bad day, the decision-making process is painful, probably because this one choice carries with it a little bit of all the other unmade choices in my life. However, if I go into the local corner store which stocks just one size and type of washing up liquid, I will buy it and be perfectly happy.

In small ways, I can find myself undone by choice. I am now consciously attempting to prevent those small ways from becoming bigger ways. For instance, I attend Tai Chi classes here in Athens. There are mornings when I don’t feel like going; I’m tired, or it’s raining, or I just don’t feel like it. I am currently experimenting with pretending that I don’t have a choice. I don’t allow myself to go down the decision-making path. Just do it. And I have to say that so far I feel much better for it.

Washing-up liquid and a Tai Chi class are of course very small things, but it is good to practise with the small things. The bigger things are, perhaps, choosing to move to Greece. I have moved to different countries and different cities in the past, but always in a provisional, transient way. I feel differently about this move, and that is having a beneficial effect on my own habitual inner restlessness. It is also, I think, the right kind of preparation for committing to this new career, and possibly even to a person.

Maybe I have just been rather slow to adopt this strategy. Years ago, I joined a Canadian-American friend in a cross-country skiing marathon from Norway to Sweden. My friend is affectionately known as Captain America, owing to his chiseled chin and robust all-round competence. I had flu on the day of the marathon and was running a temperature, not at all pleasant in -20 degrees. My progress was very slow, also because the phlegm in my lungs kept making me retch. My friend stuck loyally by my side for the first 30 kilometers or so, then – in a moment reminsicent of a Vietnam movie – I persuaded him to push ahead at his own speed. Captain America’s parting words to me were, ‘Remember: failure is not an option.’ I am not sure whether I found it all that motivating at the time, but now I recognise the effectiveness of that attitude.

But for me there is one problem with this approach, and it is a problem of intellectual consistency. Unfortunately, the pretence that I don’t have a choice does not sit well with my commitment to the existential perspective, as formulated philosophically by Sartre and psychotherapeutically by Irvin Yalom. Central to the existential perspective is the recognition that we have total choice, and total responsibility for our lives. There is no human ‘essence’; it is up to us to make of ourselves what we will. We are ‘condemned’ to be free, and any attempt to shirk that freedom is intellectually dishonest, personally inauthentic, and breaks faith with life (Sartre terms it ‘mauvaise foi’, bad faith).

Is my pretence that I don’t have a choice an example of bad faith? I’m not sure. It is a strategy that enables me to circumvent my own neurotic tendencies, a strategy that would have prevented Buridan’s ass from starving. Indeed, Buridan’s ass may have had a very happy life had he adopted it. And in my own case, it has not made me shrink from life. Quite the opposite: I have committed to Greece, to landscape painting, to learning Greek, and to practicing Tai Chi… all of these are slow processes, and this strategy helps me get over the little ups and downs. But I would not have been able to make these changes and commit to these things if I had not recognized my essential freedom in the first place.

This conflict is just a shadow of the more serious one that arises from my growing conviction that there are karmic principles at work in our lives. I am increasingly persuaded by the sages, mystics and monks who believe in reincarnation and who say that the point of our many lives is to lead us, finally, to liberation. There are many things I don’t understand: what aspect of ‘us’ gets reincarnated? How is it all organised? How can there be more people alive today than ever before? But what I like about reincarnation, and what seems intuitively correct, is that there is a point to our lives. Every new incarnation gives us the opportunity to burn through the accumulated negativity of past incarnations. Nothing happens by chance. The relationships that we have in this life are reconfigurations of similar constellations from the past; they repeat themselves until they have been fully resolved. When ‘bad’ things happen to us, they present us with the opportunity to resolve the blockages that are holding us back, and to grow in precisely the ways that we need. This is the amor fati of the Ancients; but is it true? Or is it just wishful thinking, the Panglossian optimism that Voltaire ridicules in ‘Candide’?

A part of me wants to follow Pascal and his wager: we can never know for sure, so why not believe what is most beneficial? There is no doubt that I am happier believing that there is a point to my life, that it is one of many lives, and that suffering has a reason and a purpose. Of course, one cannot choose to believe just anything. But I don’t have to try to force myself to believe this; it is in line with my intuitions.

As I have already indicated, I am increasingly persuaded by the idea that we are involved in creating the reality that we experience. Convince yourself that failure is not an option, and you are more likely to succeed. But does the same hold in the field of metaphysics? Do our thoughts, either individually or collectively, create the ‘reality’ we experience? I think that probably is the case: in significant ways, we think the world into being. The objective and subjective worlds are not completely distinct; if they are separated at all, it is only by a porous membrane. If you believe in reincarnation, then the belief alone may be enough to make it true. This is the perspective of many peoples and cultures down the ages: thought is primary and thinking (or dreaming, ‘dream-time’) creates the reality we experience.

Interestingly, there is no way to disprove this theory. If Western science looks at indigenous beliefs and shows them to be false – i.e. a mistaken representation of the way things really are – this is in fact exactly what the indigenous perspective would expect, since Western science is also just another reality that has been thought into being. There is no ‘way that things really are’; there are just different ways of thinking, and these create different realities.

Belief in reincarnation and the doctrine of karma also seems to presuppose a deterministic world. I once consulted a Vedic astrologer in South India; his reading of my natal chart was astonishingly accurate, and specific. I questioned him about the assumptions underlying the reading. He confirmed that, from the Vedic perspective, the world is fully determined. The outcome of this life, and of all future lives, is already known. We will never change the course of our lives – even the changes that we think we make have already been determined – but we can watch our lives unfold with curiosity.

Does this make life pointless and boring? Not at all. The Vedic astrologer drew the following parallel: Harry Potter’s life has been fully determined by the author, nevertheless, Harry himself does not know the outcome, and his life in each book is still vitally interesting to him - he believes that he is meaningfully shaping his future, although the author has already decided it.

What to make of this parallel with a fictional character? If thought creates reality, then in a sense we are fictional characters, either created by ourselves, or by some much greater ‘author’. Can this parallel shed light on the question of how to resolve the conflict between the radical freedom of existentialism, and the determined universe of reincarnation and Vedic thought? I don’t know, but I feel that resolving this conflict – at least to my personal satisfaction - may be the major intellectual task of the rest of my life.

In fact, it is a task that I have already embarked upon. Part of the reason why I am attracted to Zen Buddhism is because it appears to take one beyond rationality, to a world of pure awareness, a world that is not subject to the rules of thought, and that transcends conflicts of logic. The point of the Zen koan, as I understand it, is to shake us out of our ordinary way of thinking, and to give us an intimation that the world in its suchness is not as we assume it to be. These ideas are hard to frame in language, because language is itself a function of the rules that govern thought (non-contradiction, identity and so on); what Zen attempts to convey is a different perspective, beyond reason and hence also beyond ordinary language.

In the end – at the end of life, at the end of thought – perhaps the best model is provided by the ancient lama in Rudyard Kipling’s ‘Kim’. At the end of his pilgrimage, he returns to the mountains and says: ‘These are indeed my hills. Thus should a man abide, perched above the world, separated from delights, considering vast matters.’

I am finally content where I am, and not ready to perch above the world, separated from delights. But nor am I free from all anxiety. I do, for instance, wonder whether I will ever be able to paint landscapes that will match the images in my head. But here again Jiro Dreams of Sushi has provided me with inspiration. From that film, I learnt that a sushi chef in Japan spends the first two years of his career just learning how to make rice. One cannot rush things. Start small, and stay the course. In my own case, I will start with still lives, and little by little, improve my technique (should you wish, you can follow my progress via instagram: konrad_ratibor_bohemian). If I find flow, and practise diligently, then I am hopeful that one day I will create work that I am happy with. But perhaps, in order to retain the sense of purpose, one must always keep aiming a little bit higher, as Jiro does.

The life of an artist may seem very self-involved to you. It often does to me. But then I think that perhaps the greatest contribution that anyone can make is to find a way of life that makes them happy, and to share the path that got them there. Maybe in the end it can be the artist’s life that inspires others to follow their own passion, whatever it is, and realise happiness for themselves. I will conclude with Dr. Hollis’ formulation of the same sentiment in ‘What Matters Most’:

‘Maybe all of us will learn to grapple with the paradox that living our lives more fully is not narcissism, but service to the world when we bring a more fully achieved gift to the collective. We do not serve our children, our friends and partners, our society by living partial lives, and being secretly depressed and resentful. We serve the world by finding what feeds us, and, having been fed, then share our gift with others.’

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