#10 or so minutes in its finally smelling more like incense
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lokh · 5 days ago
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well thats certainly A Smell
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helshades · 6 years ago
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@valiha:
I remember some of this from school, buy I've also forgotten some. It's good to be reminded. Have you already talked about your favorite perfumes and why you like them?
Now that is a splendid idea. Using the plural, I mean, to mention favourites. I’m already incapable of choosing between two things practically as a way of life, so in terms of perfume, the old ‘What would you take to a desert island?’ meme reads to me like a cruel & unusual punishment.
For a long, long time I mourned my sheer incapacity to find myself The One, the one fragrance that would be me and which I’d wear to my deathbed and which to everyone else would be my scent—in retrospect, it wasn’t naïve only for the utter lack of self-knowing that ambition required, but also because it might have been rather bold of me to assume that the makers of Signature Scent 1.0 wouldn’t end up butchering the juice in reformulations, if they didn’t plainly cancel the production to replace it with some trendy abomination. You need spend very little time indeed in the perfume-crazed world to meet legions of mournful wearers of Opium or Féminité du bois, to say nothing of the distraught Guerlain aficionados out there. And then you’ve got your vintage perfume dealers who scrutinise batch codes frantically—such fun!
So, no unique signature scent, but I do have my list of most-cherished smells amongst my alarmingly-large collection:
Grimoire, L’Eau de Merzhin (Anatole Lebreton)
L’Heure bleue, Jicky, Jardins de Bagatelle & Après l’ondée (Guerlain)
Opium (Yves-Saint-Laurent)
Ce soir ou jamais, Grand Amour, Eau du ciel, Un matin d’orage [eau de toilette version], & Ninfeo Mio (Annick Goutal)
Ambre Russe, Aziyadé, Equistrius & Musc Tonkin (Parfum d’Empire)
Rouge Hermès
Ostara (Penhaligon’s)
L’Ombre dans l’eau, Eau de Lierre, Olène & Volutes (Diptyque)
Œillet Sauvage, Mon numéro 10, Nuit de tubéreuse, Traversée du Bosphore, Séville à l’aube, Drôle de rose, Voleur de roses, Timbuktu & Bois Farine (L’Artisan parfumeur)
Chergui, Daim Blond, Fleurs de citronnier, Sa Majesté la Rose & Five O’Clock au gingembre, Chêne, Clair de Musc (Serge Lutens)
Très Russe (Institut Très Bien)
Idole, Akkad (Lubin)
Habanita (Molinard)
Maroussia (Slava Zaitsev)
Youth-Dew (Estée Lauder)
Quite frankly, I could have included Guerlain’s Shalimar but in a bout of snobbery I didn’t, even though I wear it a lot in the summer. It is too wearable, precisely, and Guerlain releases three terrible flankers per year. Above all, Shalimar itself is a riff on the sublime Jicky, one of the house’s monuments, a complex beauty uniting aromatics (chiefly, a scrumptious lavender), citrus, spices, woods, balms, vanilla and leather which has been dazzling since its creation in 1889. I adore it. I’m incapable of wearing it in the summer.
I did, however, include a perfume I probably shouldn’t have: Opium, one of the most brutally beautiful things ever created by Man, and one that should have been left to die a glorious death a long time ago instead of reformulating it every five minute, not to mention the zillion horrid flankers milking the prestigious name to oblivion. A tragedy. Still, I added Opium to the list because I do own bottles of it in its original 1977 formula and in spite of the light maderisation, typical of vintage fragrances, its personality is intact. The funny thing is that when I was very young, everybody was wearing Opium, or more accurately attempting to do so because it isn’t that easy a perfume; now, you won’t smell it everywhere you go. You will, however, be subjected to the terrifying caramel bomb that is Black Opium, and suffer greatly.
In passing, and to speak of perfumes my mother used to wear when I was in my formative years, I cheated a little by including Habanita, the mother of all orientals that contain vetiver, a great-aunt to all orientals anyway, a pioneer in the style because when it was created in 1921 (as an oil meant to be dabbed on cigarette tips to cover the foul smell of smoke!) it was the opposite of what the market was like, but this luxurious monster soon became the flappers’ favourite fragrance (the perfume version was finally released in 1924). It was advertised at the time as ‘The Most Tenacious Perfume in the World!’, which wasn’t entirely unwarranted. It is made from nearly 700 essences, and in spite of various reformulations since the 1980s its core is unmistakable: a fresh start like a cologne with lemon and orange blossom, followed by languid flower queens, rose, jasmine and heliotrope, on a bed of soft leather impregnated with balsamic vanilla, musk and cedarwood.The thing is, Habanita is my mother’s perfume. I have a cologne version for the summer, but the winter version is kind of a personal taboo—so I retaliated by introducing her to Rouge Hermès.
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If you haven’t been stalking me but you know one or two vague things about perfume, in seeing the list above you may have noticed that I’m completely obsessed with naturalistic florals and opulent florientals. I have two modes, apparently, where perfume is concerned: ‘Wet Garden’ versus ‘Fellini Woz Here’. I suspect that growing up during the late 1980s and 1990s, when women wore powerhouses over the Working Girl suits (and under the capillary sauerkraut) and femininity was all but rambunctious, but young girls could only wear Anaïs Anaïs and the Lancôme catalogue—I’m living my 1980s now, you see. Only, apparently I’m also living my 1880s at the same time. I had a lot of trouble not including the entire catalogue of L’Artisan Parfumeur and Diptyque and Parfum d’Empire, then. I didn’t include, either, perfumes that I love but don’t actually own (yet), like things by Jovoy, Frapin, Oriza L. Legrand or Atkinson’s.
You might have noticed also that there is only one (1) vetiver-based perfume on this list, which is the exhilarating Timbuktu. The list contains zero chypre, however, because I have trouble with oak moss in general, especially in the traditional chypre harmony of oak moss, cistus/labdanum, patchouli and bergamot. I’m peculiar about patchouli and I loathe it with fruit. Moss I love only truly with perfumes so green cows will follow you with hungry eyes, which is why the mossiest juice on the list, L’Eau de Merzhin, is more like faceplanting in grassy fertile soil than anything else. An excellent antidote to the terrible ongoing of ‘fruitchouli’ and caramel overdose, methinks.
Lastly... no, I didn’t include Nahéma, which I love. Yes, I have a zillion roses in my collection, and I’m still debating the inclusion of The Different Company’s Rose Poivrée, but the thing is, I’m hyperosmic to certain aldehydes—which makes the faintest sniff of N ͦ  5 a most expensive kind of torture—and my window to wear Nahéma, marvellous candied rose petals soaked in strong aldehydes, is ridiculously narrow, as I have to wait until the weather is hot enough for the aldehydes to wear off very quickly, but before it becomes too hot for me to bear wearing rose perfume, which I never do in the summer. In the spring, however, I drench myself in flowers everyday. People still don’t make quite as startled a face as they do in the water when I switched to Aggro Amber Incense mode. Feminists complaining about ‘manspreading’ in public transport should start wearing perfume. I have a list.
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yohehoneymoon-blog · 6 years ago
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Day 1
I’m sitting in the communal room of a small campsite and “room” rental place in Marfa, TX called El Cosmico. The “rooms” are converted trailers parked around with names like Royal Palace and Imperial Mansion. It’s not a “trailer park” though. The whole place has a Mad Max-chic vibe that we both like a lot. Everything is clean and quiet.
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The common room smells heavily of incense. From the counter you can buy a sachet of smokable herbs called “Marfa Shag,” but I only smoke Marfa Shag when I drink so I’ll keep my $12. It was 1/3 of the price to camp here for the night compared to the cheapest hotel and we get to park the campervan close to the bathrooms which is a blessing and a curse. The Wi-Fi password was “marfasky!” and, instead of pronouncing it “Marfa sky,” Diana said “Mar-fass-key” and it was funny and cute.
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We left Austin, TX this morning at 10:09 AM CST in a cloudy, misting 55 degrees Fahrenheit. We headed West along Highway 290 through Dripping Springs where we realized we were hungry. We stopped in a coffee shop that supposedly had breakfast tacos called “Mazama Coffee Co” and when we realized they had no tacos left. Down the block was a tiny, is-this-place-even-open? taco joint called “Flores Breakfast & Lunch” where we got some damned good breakfast tacos. We sat on a bench outside, as there was no actual inside to this place. We warmed up with a nondescript green sauce that packed a punch.
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Bellies full of egg, cheese, chorizo, and four tortilla, we bade Dripping Springs goodbye and continued West.
About an hour into driving as we approached Fredericksburg, TX I realized that I was falling asleep at the wheel. We pulled into a Dollar General for paper plates and York Peppermint Patties. Diana took the wheel from there and I climbed into the back of the campervan, laying horizontally. That was probably a dumb idea, as an accident would see my Superman-ing my way through the windshield. But I was tired and it’s our Honeymoon and we’ll die horribly the way we very well please. I dozed off.
I woke back up when we were turning onto Interstate 10.
Finally, the road opened up and the sky cleared, mostly. The cars dispersed and gradually, things went from rolling hills to slightly taller rolling hills. Eventually, it became rolling megalithic formations covered in a thin sheet of green. (Why are all the tops flat? I have no idea. If only there were a rectangle with all recorded human knowledge in my pocket.) We both marveled at how small we felt. We thought about what impossibly ancient courses of events had to occur to cause all of this, and then also have us driving a campervan through it at that moment.
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We listened to Blind Guardian.
We stopped at a Love’s in Sonora, TX for gas and bottles of water. They had a super long squeegee that would make any Hill Country panhandler jealous. I used it. I have no idea if Sonora exists beyond that Love’s. There was only a sign and a gas station.
We got back on I-10 and my squeegee work was immediately rendered unnecessary as bugs the size of fun size Milky Ways assaulted the windshield for the next five hours.
We stopped for gas and a leg-stretch at the only Sunoco/Burger King combo I have ever seen in my life in a dump of a town called Ft. Stockton. Diana tried to use the bathroom but it smelled more like Ft. Stinkton and we left. We went to a Stripes and used their bathroom instead. I bought a bottle of water and a pre-packaged dill pickle. It was crunchy as hell.
I made an illegal u-turn in front of a police officer who either was blind or very, very tired.
We saw a dead boar on the side of the road the size of a Saint Bernard. Its tusks were no joke.
We pulled into Marfa, TX at 06:16 PM CST. We stopped at a small Tex-Mex place called “Mondo’s” and learned the difference between green and red enchiladas. We both prefer green. The salsa was exceptional and everything else was reasonable. The iced tea had a not unpleasant smokiness to it. The waitress knew everyone in there. A table of townies sat down. She asked about their kids as they ordered “the one with the holla-peenyer peppers on it.” We paid $24 and left.
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We pulled into El Cosmico and paid for our stay. We took a brief all around, hearing mostly birds and the occasional passing car. People talked, but never too loudly. Everyone is just hanging out or sleeping. We found some hammocks and had a lie down, sitting in silence and just listening. We played with the camera a bit.
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We spoke to the woman at the front counter about seeing the Marfa Lights, a supposedly paranormal event that happens pretty regularly with colored balls floating in the sky above the Chihuahuan Desert. They don’t always show. Sounds like the bats under the Congress bridge, except aliens instead of bats.
We drove 10 miles out to the “Marfa Lights Viewing Station” where a few dozen or so people gathered to look for anything that wasn’t an airplane in the sky. It was cold and uneventful besides the one shooting star we saw. I commented on how nice it was that everyone there was courteous, only mostly whisper-talking. Fifteen minutes later a bunch of teenagers showed up. We left shortly after.
After much finagaling the we fell asleep in the back of the campervan. I woke up in the middle of the night to light rain on the roof. It was cold, but not colder than that one night we spent in the back of the Toyota Highlander parked at a hotel parking lot in Nashville, TN during the east coast blizzard of January 2015.
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malodorousmalcontent · 6 years ago
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Sixteen92 Review
Hi everybody, welcome to my Sixteen92 review, where I feel unnecessarily self-conscious about how many times I describe scents as 'perfumey'.
I've been sitting on these for a good couple... Weeks? Months? I don't know, but a fateful weekend came where I took a look at my exceptionally busy Notes file, and felt very sad, so I figured i'd knock a couple reviews off my list. Work through all this shit I still needed to review. And that brings us here! Hooray.
I'll be reviewing Kuro Lolita, You Who Swallowed a Falling Star, New Radio, Hydromancy, Telepathy, Mellifera, Vlad Dracul, Paper Moon, and An Excellent Day for an Exorcism.
Hold onto yer butts, folks, this one gets pretty long, here we go
KURO LOLITA (PERFUME OIL) || Black sandalwood, burning resins, straw, porcelain, delicate lace, wet stone, fog, wind-blown leaves.
This smells like a cold rainy fall day in a small southern gothic town, encompassed by farmland, with cobblestone streets and dotted with tiny run-down churches. Bales of hay are speckled around the area: leftover decorations from autumn festivities that happened a week or so ago.
...Just had to get that outta my system, onto the stuff that matters!
The first thing I get, punching me in the nose as soon as I put it on, is sandalwood and damp hay. It's a very warm, woody, dusty scent, with just a little bit of sweet acridness that makes me think there's a dry/decaying leaf note in this (I haven't double-checked the notes yet, so I only remember some of them), and enough petrichor to put the 'damp' in there. The burning resin note comes out after about 10 minutes of wear, and, boy, it's unmistakable: Sweet, with a kick, and a good amount of burniness to it. It smells dark. Like you just walked into one'a those imaginary churches and they were performing a sordid ritual in there, the chapel overrun with incense and candles.
Another 15 minutes, and the sandalwood fades, the resins mellow out some, and i'm mostly left with the hay and that gentle sweet smell of decay. The final note I smell on the drydown: leaves and cold, wet atmosphere. Really interesting atmospheric, evokes a lot of mental imagery.
tl;dr: Sandalwood at first, followed by burning, incensey, sweet resin that mellows out to hay and a decaying leaves note that is present throughout the whole wear. Dries down to leaves and cold, wet atmosphere.
RATING: 3.5/5. Nice, a very good atmospheric, but I feel like it's bordering overly complex, with some of the notes getting lost in the mix and my nose feeling a bit confused. I also don't know how much i'll want to really wear it.
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YOU WHO SWALLOWED A FALLING STAR (PERFUME OIL) || Dark stone fruits, glowing embers, night rose, sweet sandalwood, plum blossom.
Oh, smells like rock candy.
So this is sitting on a weird edge for me. See, "stone fruit" (peach) notes tend to not work on me more often than not: they go acrid in this terrible, burning bodily fluid kinda way, and this... This is sitting juuuust on the edge of that. It's sharp and tart and kinda heady, rounded out by that rock-candy sweetness (which i'm 90% certain is frankincense. Source: I have a bag of pure frankincense), and just like... It's thinking about being a burny bile scent. But not quite. Nooot quite. There's a smooth, perfumey floral undercurrent to this, too. Lots of smells goin' on at once.
The drydown is basically lush, smooth, perfumey, rich-as-hell flowers, with a slight sourness to 'em. It's actually very pretty, that rose is killin' it. I don't get the threat of burning bile anymore, or the rock candy. It's a little humid-smelling, too - a great summer night scent.
tl;dr: Bright stone fruit and powdery, rock-candy-like incense which fades to lush, smooth florals.
RATING: 3/5. Well made, but i'm not big on how the top notes play out at all.
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NEW RADIO (PERFUME OIL) || Vanilla milkshake accord, maraschino cherry, pink lemonade, grass clippings, waffle cone.
So, full disclosure, I had no interest in this scent. I saw it and went, woof, that sounds way too bright and sweet and youthful for me, and passed it over time and time again. I ended up getting it as a free sample when I ordered some of those Sea Salt Hair Sprays, and... Wow. I like it way, way more than I thought I would.
In the bottle, it's... Perfect. It's everything. Rich, foody, smooth vanilla; SUPER bright, almost candied, nice n' tart maraschino cherry (this is the note I was most worried about, too, as I don't like cherries - but this note is perfect). The gentlest edge of sour pink lemonade. A perfect, toasty waffle cone, which is honestly one of my favorite scents... I don't get much grass, but I don't need it. In the bottle, it's the perfect summer scent.
You'll notice I keep saying 'in the bottle'.
It touches down on my skin, and lives in that perfect blissful state for about two seconds, and then, boom. My skin absolutely gobbles up most of those wonderful notes. That bright maraschino cherry? Gone. Pink lemonade? Barely there, just giving a bit of a sour zing. All i'm really left with is vanilla and the faintest hints of that waffle cone note. It's absolutely heartbreaking. Like, it still smells good... But, god, not as good as it could. I might get a scent locket for this, though.
Virtually no sillage, but I can smell that vague warm sweetness on my wrist for a pretty good handful of hours.
tl;dr: A delicious, foody, bright, sweet and warm and toasty summer scent that's a dead-ringer for its notes... That my skin devours instantly, leaving only vanilla, a touch of lemonade, and faint breadiness.
RATING: 3/5. This would be a 5/5 if my skin didn't DEVOUR half of it. RIP, beautiful scent.
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HYDROMANCY (PERFUME OIL) || Fog, cold violet, lichen, ambroxan, mineral accord, petrichor, glass.
This was recommended to me when I went out and asked people for a scent that makes me smell like a ghost, and honestly, this fits the bill pretty well. It's a pretty specific type of ghost, though: the ghost of a waifish maiden who went down with a sinking ship, who you find, suspended frozen above the water, in the air pocket of an underwater cave that she managed to swim to but ultimately starved to death within.
...ANYWAYS
This smells empty, silky, ethereal, dark in a spooky way, and most importantly, pretty darn oceanic and green. The first thing I smell upon putting it on is the lichen and ambroxan, the former being green, sort of dry-smelling (like lichen that's growing just a foot or so above the water, hasn't touched it in a while, y'know), with that weird tang that lichen can have, and the latter giving a very oceanic sweet-saltiness. The mineral accord and petrichor blend really well with the ambroxan note and it genuinely just ends up smelling like very realistic dank cave ocean water.
And then there's the fog and the glass. The Weird Notes.
The fog is less a scent and more a feeling - it makes the entire scent sort of... Soft and fuzzy. It's what's giving it that silky quality. The glass, you can actually smell, and it... Smells like glass, y'all. Cold and clear and giving off a faint sterile scent, but, it's there. Notably, I can only really detect it if I huff so hard that I become anosmic to the ambroxan and lichen, and it comes out more on the dry-down, but. ...Yeah, it's there. Combined with the fog, it's like... The scent equivalent of looking through a window that's become clouded with condensation. If that makes sense.
This doesn't have a ton of sillage - I can just barely detect it from 3 inches away - but wears very strongly on my wrist.
tl;dr: A realistic ocean water scent made fuzzy and silky by a fog note, with a fascinating, realistic glass note that peeks out on the dry-down.
RATING: 4/5. Too oceanic for me, but well made, and that glass note is WILD.
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TELEPATHY (PERFUME OIL) || Winter narcissus, tonka bean, immortelle flower, sleet, ozone, white amber.
When I first got this, it was basically just straight sleet for the entire wear, and I wasn't wild about it. It was a very realistic sleet note, mind you, but that's not necessarily a good thing: the scent basically smelled cold, bitter, and a little dirty, which is not at all what I had been expecting from the notes.
The good news is, after considerable rest, it's verrrry different.
I put it on, and for the first minute, it's still that dirty sleet note, but then it softens up and out comes the florals - Light and lush and just a little stereotypically perfumey-smelling. It's still a little dirty, which gives the scent some complexity, and there's a gentle undercurrent of something sugary-sweet underneath the florals. This is more... Elegant smelling than I think I expected it to be. I expected it to be light and femme and kinda... Younger-smelling, but the actual scent smells like something a very refined woman in her 40's or 50's might wear.
Looking at the notes, yeah, basically what i'm smelling. Florals from the narcissus and immortelle, sweetness from the tonka bean and probably the white amber, and atmospheric, colder, dirtier notes from the sleet and ozone.
It's very, very light on me - if I huff it too much I quickly become anosmic, and while I was getting a little bit of sillage while it was wet, I have to have my nose pressed to my wrist on the dry-down.
tl;dr: A delicate, perfumey floral with undertones of cold, wet, dirty atmosphere and gentle sugary sweetness.
RATING: 4.5/5. I like this quite a bit. Has depth, but isn't overly complex, and the florals and sweeter notes are so pretty. I'd wear this to something very professional. Docked half a point for being so light, though.
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MELLIFERA (PERFUME OIL) || Wildflower Honey Accord (not vegan), Violet, Jasmine Sambac, Vanilla Infused Sugar, Sandalwood.
So, i'm not big on honey scents. Unless the honey is very subtle, it can quickly go super overwhelming and cloying to me. Hex's Papa Legba was downright unbearable with how strong and sweet it was.
Mellifera, though, is not!
I mean, it's very honey forward, don't get me wrong, the honey's basically the star of the show, but it's a different kind of honey. It smells... Clearer. Rather than being overwhelmingly sugary-sweet, it's far more floral, with little pinpricks of something kinda sharp and tart and tingly. It's bordering on being kinda cleaning-supply-ish, but it's not quite there. There might be a citrus note in this? That's what i'm basically getting: Clear, gentle honey with a floral edge, and maybe citrus.
Let's CHECK! THOSE! NOTES
Not a LICK of citrus! Go me. The wildflower honey accord explains the quality of the honey, though, and I bet that sharpness that's a little cleaning-supply-ish is the jasmine. The violets are in there, but they're so well-blended with the other floral notes that I wouldn't be able to identify their trademark Purple Burp smell on a blind sniff. I can recognize them now that I know, but seriously, the other florals balance them out so well.
The wildflower and jasmine pinpricks eventually mellow out to a smooth, bright sweetness - a combination of the vanilla and honey, I imagine. I... Still don't get any sandalwood, which makes me sad, 'cause I love sandalwood. :( My wood-gobbling skin strikes again, I guess.
Virtually no sillage - it wears kinda light on my wrist, and I can only smell it from about an inch away.
tl;dr: A clear, floral honey with pinpricks of sharp jasmine that loses its floral edge on the drydown and simply becomes bright-yet-smooth honey and vanilla.
RATING: 3.7/5. Not bad, but the jasmine is just too sharp for me, and I can't see myself wearing it much.
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VLAD DRACUL (PERFUME OIL) || Carpathian fir needle, red cedar, black amber, black patchouli, scorched earth, opium, blood musk.
This smells like a cologne for someone who dresses in refined clothes but also feasts upon the entrails of freshly-killed deer, so, I guess the name is apt. It's dirty as hell, but in a kind of bright way: like walking around on a very dry fall day through a forest that's all reds and yellows and dry cracked earth with sparse yellow grass. I get a cool airiness from it, and piney freshness, and d i r t. That scorched earth note ain't playin' around. I'm pretty sure that man-stank smell is the blood musk, which is this sorta... Feral, almost pheromonally sweet smell? But it's not bad or actually stinky, just kinda hanging out under the atmospherics.
On the drydown I get a resinous, very light sweetness, I assume that's the opium and/or the black amber, and the atmospheric notes are still there, most notably that scorched earth, but way subtler. It's warm and smooth and just... Prettier than I expected it to be, given the way it started.
tl;dr: A fall atmospheric that's distinguished by its scorched earth note and a sort of pheromonal, feral musk. Dries down to light resinous sweetness and that scorched earth note.
RATING: 4/5.
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PAPER MOON (PERFUME OIL) || Soft vanilla musk, benzoin, oakmoss, trailing ivy, peach blossom, rose.
Mmmm, this is delicious. It's so sweet and mellow with the prettiest, smoothest florals. The vanilla musk is the strongest thing in this, humid and sweet, with a super well-blended floral edge. The florals are kinda perfumey-smelling, but the rose doesn't go overly chemical, is just lush and smooth, and the peach blossom is soft and delicate. I've never encountered benzoin before, so i'm not entirely sure what it smells like, but The Internet says it's a warm and sweet note - I bet it's part of what i'm reading as the vanilla musk. I keep sniffing this looking for the ivy or oakmoss, but honestly, i'm not smelling anything that hits me as particularly green.
The most morphing it does on the dry-down is that the florals mellow out some, but otherwise, it stays largely the same. It wears close to the skin, but is strong on my wrist.
tl;dr: A warm, humid vanillic sweetness with a floral edge that's lush and perfumey from the rose and soft and delicate from the peach blossom.
RATING: 4.7/5. An EENSY bit too perfumey for me, but that's about it.
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AN EXCELLENT DAY FOR AN EXORCISM (PERFUME OIL) || Cathedral incense, black clove, burned parchment, tarnished silver, sacred woods.
Woods. Strong, evergreen woods, with a surprisingly light airiness to them - a real nice cold air note, i'm assuming. Genuinely makes the scent smell cool. The woods are strong and perfumey, which puts them a hair off realistic, but I also get that fresh, sap-sticky (I love that term pardon me for using it across reviews), slightly bitter mintiness that smells very much like the real thing.
I have, literally, NO idea what the notes in this are at the time that i'm writing this, apart from a tarnished silver note - which I think might be part of the cool airiness of the scent, i'm not sure. If I had to take a wild guess, i'd say that there's... Woods, resins, maybe a floral giving that perfumey nature, and some kinda cold air/ozonic note.
Here we go, let's take a peek at zee notes
...Wow, I was way off. At least I got the woods and the cathedral incense must be what i'm reading as resins, and is probably the source of the perfumey-ness, and, by process of elimination, the silver note must be what's making it so cold. The burnt parchment and black clove come out a couple hours into the drydown, giving this a tingly, burning quality, and a good bit of sharpness. The sweetness of the incense rounds it out nicely.
Doesn't have a lot of sillage, but says strong on my wrist.
tl;dr: Perfumey incense, fresh woods, and a cold and clear silver note that dries down to a burning, sharp smell that's still accompanied by the sweetness of the incense.
RATING: 3.5/5. Not bad, I love that silver note, but gets too sharp on the dry-down.
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essiefreds · 7 years ago
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I tried to find a GIF that Steve looked sleepy in. I think this one’s kinda close. 
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18,  Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22
Word Count: 2119
Tagged: @hotemotionalmess, @hufflepeople, @justtolkienabout, @uservalkyrie
Several weeks passed. Between work with you on the important aspects of the 21st century, Steve began to adjust on his own. He emerged more frequently from his apartment in SHIELD’s New York headquarters, and wandered the building on his own. When he had someone with him (typically yourself), he would go outside, to visit Central Park, to purchase his own groceries, just to get out. He told you that he’d locked himself in from the world for long enough.
You were glad, and not afraid to admit, proud, even, that he’d gotten this far both on his own, and with your assistance.
Still, even with his improvements, both of you knew that he’d never full grow accustomed to the future he had not seen emerge from the past. There were too many things that still confused them, too many things that he did not agree with. It had taken him time to admit it, but Steve was slowly growing an understanding that the future was not the ideal one that had been thought of.
It was a work in progress, and would continue to be.
The place he spent a lot of his time in was the training room that resided on one of the many floors of headquarters. There were plenty of things to punch and kick at, and because he had been locked away in an ice prison for so long, Steve determined that he needed to work out, to get back the strength that ‘had been lost’ while he was asleep.
Just looking at him made you wonder if he’d lost any strength at all, but you did not argue, since it got him out of his apartment.
Still, you started to worry when you came into work on multiple mornings to the report that Captain Rogers had woken in the middle of the night, and gone down to the training room for hours on end. Until that point, he had not mentioned anything about nightmares or failure to sleep through the night to you, but apparently those two things were in fact plaguing him.
You waited a few days, to see if he chose to bring up the subject during your visits with him. He did not, and for the first time, you decided that maybe you needed to initialize a conversation that delved into the damage that his hibernation had caused.
During breakfast the day following your choice (Steve had taken up cooking, which you hadn’t known was something he could do, but were pleasantly surprised to find that he could), you looked at him, levelly, and waited for him to notice.
He did, after only about two seconds. It took him only another three to study your expression, and see that you were about to start an important conversation.
With a sigh, he set down his fork. “What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you have trouble sleeping?”
“I didn’t think there was any reason to,” Steve responded, keeping his eyes on you. To his credit, he did not look guilty. “Medication doesn’t really help, and talking about the things that cause it just make it worse.”
“And you know that second part for a fact?” you prompted, not believing him.
He was silent, which was a dead giveaway that he had no idea if his assumption was correct. You sighed to yourself. “Steve, I thought you trusted me.”
“I do,” he said immediately.
“Then… why didn’t you trust me with something like this?” you asked him. “My job is to help you, and I can’t if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Steve glanced away. You did not appreciate that he was already putting up a wall between the two of you. You only wanted to ensure that he was adjusting well in all aspects, not in just understanding the new world he was living in. Not being able to help with his disturbed sleep was a major fault in your final goal.
Resisting a part of yourself that wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, you merely said, softly, “Please?”
Steve let out a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. He kept his eyes averted from yours, but he did say, “It’s just nightmares.”
“Of?”
“The plane crash, the war…” He lifted his shoulders. “It’s nothing that doesn’t make sense, based on how jarring the experiences were.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” you informed him. “What did you do before you knew where the gym was?”
“Just… laid in bed, staring at the ceiling,” he responded. “I didn’t know what else there was to do.”
“Do you ever try going back to sleep?”
“I used to,” Steve said. He picked at the plastic on the table with a finger. “It never worked. I couldn’t relax.”
You sat back in your chair, studying him. Even with the Super Soldier Serum, he was not impervious to the effects of lack of sleep. There were bags beginning to darken under his eyes, and it seemed like there was a heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders. You cursed yourself for not seeing it before. You needed to take some action, and soon, or else his exhaustion was going to start to show in mood swings. That was the last thing that needed to happen.
“All right,” you began after a minute of silence. Steve finally looked at you again. “Here’s what I’m thinking; we’ll try different methods of helping normal people get back to sleep after they wake up in the middle of the night. A lot of people use sound machines to help soothe them, or certain aromas from candles and incense. One of those things has to work for you, and we’re going to find it.”
“And if we don’t?” Steve asked. From the tone of his voice, you could tell that he seriously thought there was a possibility that no solution could be found.
“Then instead of going to the training room, you call me,” you told him.
Immediately, he shook his head. “I’m not going to wake you up in the middle of the night just to… come here to talk me down from not going back to sleep,” he said.
“Yes, you are, because I’m -” you cut yourself off, and lowered your gaze to the plate that sat in front of you. The remnants of scrambled eggs and hash-browns littered it. You hated Nick Fury for making it impossible for you to truthfully tell Steve why it was you cared so much. It was like the order to avoid building a friendship with him had made it impossible for you to actually refer to him as a friend.
At least, you couldn’t say the word out loud. And it was increasingly frustrating you.
Steve was still looking at you, and you could tell he was trying to put an end on the sentence that you’d left open. You wondered what conclusions he was drawing, and hoped that the one you’d wanted to give it was at the forefront of his mind.
“- because I’m concerned,” you finished it, weakly. “I’m concerned, and I… I want to help. Let me.”
Steve did not respond at first. You watched him, studying his face, trying to predict if he would agree without you having to argue your point further, which would only make things more difficult, or if he was going to resist your help.
“Only as a last resort, if nothing else helps?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Only as a last resort,” you promised.
He met your eyes. “Okay,” he said, and you relaxed, before offering him a grateful smile.
“Thank you. I’ll get some things for tonight, and we’ll see what works best,” you said, and then you focused your attention on finishing your breakfast. After a moment, you heard Steve do the same.
You knew there was really no point in keeping the fact that you were giving helping Steve sleep a try, but nonetheless, you did not go looking for resources through SHIELD. Instead, you went out and bought things on your own. A sound machine was more difficult to find than incense sticks that let off the smell of chamomile and lavender, but you eventually found one at a electronics store that was filled with oddments of all kinds.
You also did some research into techniques that people could do themselves, without external help. They involved breathing patterns, and different sleep positions. The biggest thing, according to the internet, was to not get up. Movement cause the brain to think that it was time to remain awake for the day, which was not something that you wanted to happen if you were attempting to get more sleep.
Later on in the afternoon, after you’d returned to Steve’s apartment with your purchased items and your new knowledge in the ways of sleep, you told him these tips, and showed him how to switch the sound machine on. Once plugged into the wall, it emitted white noise, which was reminiscent of the static that he’d listened to on the radio.
Steve eyed the machine curiously, but not without distaste. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment, looking at you. “I think the point should be to remove reminders of the things causing me nightmares.” He gestured to the sound machine. “Static is what happened once the radio went out, while I was talking to Peggy for the last time on the jet.”
“The point of the sound is to give you something to focus on that isn’t the thing that woke you up,” you explained to him. “We’ll just… give it a shot, for a few nights, and if you decide it only makes things worse, then we’ll rule it out, okay?”
He nodded, but he did not look happy. You turned the machine off, and then nodded to the incense burner and sticks that you’d bought as well. “Those might work best for you. The smell of lavender has been proven to help relax the mind and body, and to help people sleep more deeply. Chamomile is usually drank as a type of tea, but since you’re not supposed to get out of bed, the smell has similar effects as drinking it. It helps create contentment and warmth.”
Steve picked up one of the lavender scented sticks and sniffed it. After a moment, he glanced sideways at you. “You wear a perfume that smells like this,” he said, and you felt a blush form on the back of your neck, slowly working its way up to your ears and cheeks.
“Sometimes, yeah,” you agreed. “I’ve always liked the smell of it.” Steve set the incense stick back down. “If neither of these work, we can find different ones; there’s plenty that are meant to do the same things.”
“I’m sure these will be fine,” he said, and he gestured to the incense burner itself. “How does it work?”
“It’s designed to make sure that heat doesn’t spread,” you told him. “All you have to do is light the coated end of the stick with a match or a lighter, and then you stick it in these holes.” You tapped the burner. “Don’t light more than two at a time; the combination of lavender and chamomile should be strong enough without there needing to be multiples of each.”
Steve nodded. “Okay.” He stared at the incense for a moment, and then he glanced at you. “So, breathing, staying still, smells, and sound. That’s all?”
You nodded. “The hope is that at least one of these things works for you. It’s up to you if you want to try them all at once, or if you want to try them one at a time, a combination of two or three… whatever. Just test it out, try to find what works best. If nothing works, well… we’ll figure something else out.” You poked him in the shoulder. “But no more middle of the night working out.”
He smiled. “No more working out in the middle of the night,” he repeated. “Can we do something fun, now?”
You chuckled. “Yes, we can do something fun.”
“Good,” he said, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He held them up for you to see. “It’s been a long time since I was able to play a good game of cards with somebody.”
“It was always going to end in card games,” you sighed under your breath, but followed him back out into the living room. He was cooperating when it came to the sleeping devices; you would cooperate with his forms of entertainment.
At least, until you started to lose. Nobody would be having fun if you started to lose. 
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thranduilsgems · 7 years ago
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4, 10, 15, 20, 40 pls ily
hey whats up bitch I’m finally answering these I’ve consumed a lot of rum & cokes and I’m ready to rumble
from (x)
4. what does your room smell like?uh honestly idk what the regular smell of it is but other than that it’s whatever incense I’ve been burning, which lately has either been lavender or dragon’s blood
10. what do you wish you hated, but actually like?I was going back and forth and rambling about this one but then something else popped into my head and honestly? the answer is the 1st twilight movie 
15. do you prefer space or the ocean?space is very pretty and I like galaxies but the ocean I think! the waves are calming but also I very much like looking at videos of the ocean during a storm where the waves are gigantic and all choppy and everything is just wild. also there’s like fuckin squids, sharks, octopi, dolphins, crabs, and assorted sea monsters in the ocean like how tight is thatand also whenever I go home to my parents I am literally 10 minutes away from the ocean and can see its majesty a lot easier than I can be blasted off into space
20. do you believe in god(s)?ooh boy this is gonna be long and weird probably and I’ve had a few drinks so buckle in folks so I was raised catholic and attended catholic school from K-4th and then was in CCD (catholic education class for children in public schools mandated by the church) for 2 years before my family moved from the north to the south where catholicism isn’t as popular so we stopped going to church and all were individually kinda disinterested in organized religion anyways. and like, I don’t know if it was just innately the way I felt or if school influenced me, but I never really felt like, a spiritual or emotional relationship to god in any way for as long as I can remember? I think since maybe I took school so seriously and strived to be the perfect student, I took the whole religion aspect of catholic school as more of an academic field rather than something to be emotionally connected to. Like I could (at the time) tell you anything about the bible or the sacraments or mass procedure and rituals, but in my heart never really cared or felt a connection? when I prayed with everyone else I just kinda stayed there on my knees not thinking of anything in particular bc I didn’t think it was going anywhere. so to that end, no, but I don’t know if I’d call myself an atheist. I don’t know if there’s something else after we die and I don’t know if everything that happens is random, because sometimes it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. and I actually planned on going to mass sometime last november or december bc we were learning about byzantine art and gothic architecture in my art history class and it made me want to check out the basilica we have in town, and on the night before I was gonna go, we got completely snowed in, so I don’t fuckin know how to take that sign. 
40. do you like light blankets or heavy blankets?depends! I think most of the time I use lighter blankets bc I just want to be covered all the time, even if I’m not particularly cold, but if I’m cold or want more support I’ll go for a heavier blanket. I was looking at weighted blankets but they’re fuckin expeeeennssiiiiivveee. 
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phantomrose96 · 8 years ago
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A Breach of Trust: Chapter 21
(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )
(Act 2: Chapter 10-18 )
(Act 3: Chapter 19,  Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24)
Reigen was soaked to the bone.
He squinted through the rain and spit water from his mouth as he hauled bag after bag of trash to the dumpster around the side of the apartment. He’d had a flimsy red umbrella for the first garbage run. On autopilot, Reigen had accidentally thrown it out along with the garbage bag. Reigen had told Mob the wind carried it off.
When Reigen returned from the final dumpster trip, he shed his shoes and his socks and his suit jacket, which he hung wet and dripping on a coat rack nail by the door. Reigen collapsed into a kitchen chair he pulled out, huffing out a laugh and running his fingers through his soaking wet hair. Water ran down his face and dripped into the corners of his mouth, salty.
“Are you okay, Reigen?” Mob asked.
Reigen looked up. Mob sat on the other side of the table, fingers gripped visibly tight to the wood. Ash still stained his shirt, and his eyes were visibly shaken. Reigen knew it was due to the “barrier”—whatever that meant in Mob’s mind—reappearing in the stretches of time it took Reigen to toss the garbage bags. Reigen told himself, and Mob, that this counted toward Mob’s training.
“I’m fine, Mob.” Reigen grabbed his right pantleg and wrung it, twisting it tight at his ankle. Streams of water ran down his foot to the tile below. “This is a lot like swimming actually, except fully clothed and it’s terrible.”
Mob met his eyes, concentration furrowing his brow. “You’re being funny, right Reigen?”
“I’m funny all the time.”
“Oh… Yeah, I agree.” After a moment of thought, Mob settled on a small smile. Reigen smiled back on impulse.
“You know what would probably be smart right about now? Laundry. Both our clothes are kind of a mess.”
Mob’s eyes seemed to brighten a bit in recollection. “Oh, I remember laundry.”
“Mob how much do you mind loud noises?”
Mob blinked. “I don’t mind loud noises.”
“Good, because my washing machine is kind of broken and the basket inside—the barrel inside—the thing that spins, it’s unbalanced or something and like, it spins fast, so the whole thing vibrates and hops around kinda….loud.”
“…Sounds like it’s haunted.”
“Yeah! I got it for super cheap from a client who thought his angry dead grandma’s spirit was inside.”
“Did you exorcise the spirit, Reigen?”
“……Yes,” Reigen answered. He stood, and shook his hands through his hair once more to shake loose the last of the water dripping into his eyes and down his neck. “Go ahead and get changed Mob. I’ll get the laundry basket from my room and then I’ll come by to get whatever clothes you need washed.”
“You’re going to wash mine too?”
“Yep. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you don’t know how to use a washing machine?”
Mob shook his head.
“Then this is part of your training too, Mob.”
Reigen moved to his own room, stripping off his wet clothes in favor of a pajama shirt and sweatpants. He tossed the white undershirt into the laundry basket he kept in his closet. His suit pants he kept separate, since those required dry cleaning. Reigen scoured the floor, grabbing the random crumpled clothes he’d tossed about, most of them thoroughly sweat-soaked, and added them to the basket.
He went to Mob’s room next, and knocked.
“Come in.”
Mob sat on his bed, wearing a clean shirt and new sweats as well. His ashy clothes were hung across an outstretched dresser drawer. A handful of his other shirts and pants were folded poorly on the floor.
Reigen’s eyes trailed past them, settling on the three enormous cardboard boxes pressed against the back wall, taking up a sizable amount of floor space.
“Oh, Mob, did I never move these?”
Mob glanced too. “No.”
“Well of course not. They’re there.” Reigen set the basket down, and he dropped to his knees in front of the boxes. He tugged on one experimentally to see if it would budge with ease. It stayed put. “I forgot I was using this room as storage.”
“What’s in the boxes?”
Reigen startled at the noise so close. He glanced over his shoulder, finding Mob standing beside him, hands to his knees, leaning forward. Mob’s braid dangled over his shoulder.
“Um good question,” Reigen answered. He set his thumbnail against the corner of the clear cellophane tape holding down the top flaps, and he peeled it up. “Let’s see.”
The flaps parted easily once the tape was torn away. It released a smell old and musty, but not unpleasant. It was sharp and dense with incense, spices, aroma candles… That smell hit Reigen like a wave, and his body flushed with a nostalgic shiver.
“It’s my old stuff from when I ran Spirits and Such. Like, my office stuff,” Reigen answered, somewhat wistful. Mob leaned in further.
Reigen pulled the artifacts out one at a time. A grim smiling statue, carved of jade, which Reigen treated as a medium during séances. A bottle of shredded tea leaves, whose label was toxically yellow, whose instructions were hand-written and smudged beyond legibility. Candles of every size, width, color—some half-burned—filled with aromatic oils, which Reigen used during his “exorcisms”. A set of newton balls with no special significance, but Reigen used to clack them together when he got bored.
The thing he pulled out next was a framed poster of his own face, stern, with a speech bubble advertising his agency, and Reigen almost burst out laughing.
Mob picked up the jade statue. He ran his hands along its smooth and cold face, seemingly fascinated. “Did you use this for your exorcism work?”
Reigen sat up a little taller. “Yep. For séances. That statue there has a very powerful energy for channeling spirits.”
Mob nodded. “A very powerful energy, it’s really dark and unsettling. It’s a curse probably.” He put it back down, and his eyes rose to Reigen with fascination. “But you’re powerful enough to use it without getting cursed. That’s amazing, Reigen.”
Reigen coughed. He pushed the jade statue a little further away with his foot. “Yes.”
“Did you use these to exorcise the spirit out of that washing machine?”
“You got it.” Reigen gestured to the haphazardly grouped candles. “In fact, I invented my own class of exorcism. If you burn the right soothingly-scented candles, and hit all the correct pressure points on the human body, you can exorcise any spirit. I exorcised hundreds—no thousands, yes thousands, of evil spirits back in my heyday, using this method alone.”
Reigen struck a corny smile. It was utter bullshit. He’d learned massage therapy in his free time. Most of his success stories were just simple-minded clients who thought the crick in their neck was an evil spirit’s doing.
Mob grabbed a few of the candles, turning them over in his hands. He sniffed them. “I don’t feel any aura on them.”
“Of course. My power—which is incredibly powerful—is what I’d infuse into the candles. The spirits never stood a chance.”
Mob clutched the candles close to his chest. “…Incredible.” He hunched in a little. “And you…you could do all this and keep your barrier under control…?”
“Mob, I could perform exorcisms, control my barrier, and juggle three of these candles without breaking a sweat. Once you learn how, it’s that easy.”
“Do you think I can learn how?”
“With me teaching you, I bet you could do all that and juggle four candles. I tried learning four before I shut down Spirits and Such but I never really got it.”
“Can I ask…”
“Wanna see me do the three candle juggling thing?”
“…why did you shut down Spirits and Such…?”
“It’s been a long time but I once went 35 minutes before I dropped them—oh, um.”
“I know you said it’s because you made bad spirit enemies, and they wanted to hurt your friends, but…how, exactly?
Reigen went a bit tense. His jaw tightened, and he slumped just a little, remembering that was the lie he’d peddled to Mob the very first night. Some big grandiose thing…some big hero who’d sacrificed his life’s work for the safety of his loved ones…as if he even had any.
“That…wasn’t the whole truth Mob, actually.” Reigen rubbed his shoulders a bit, still achy from hauling out the garbage. “I told you I was super powerful and I quit because the spirits targeted my family but uh… Well the spirits didn’t target anyone. Just me.” Reigen tilted his chin, brandishing his right cheek to Mob. He pointed to the lengthy scar across his cheek bone. “I met a spirit who was a little too powerful, and it was a close call. So I shut down the agency to do something safer.”
“…What are you now?”
“A private investigator.”
“Do you like it?”
“…No.”
Reigen ran his thumb along the candle nearest him. Rain still pelted outside, a shivering chorus, as a last bit of water dripped from his hairline and curved along his scarred cheek. He lifted the candle and sniffed it, and the smell dragged him to a time when he’d been just a bit happier than he was now.
“I uh…I definitely liked being an exorcist more, ya know? More rewarding to um…free people of their spiritual burdens, than to like, catch their husband cheating in the back of some minivan with the PTA president.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Never mind. I mean um…” Reigen set the candle down, pushing them into a neat circle, a garden of varying shapes and colors and smells. “My last case actually involved some evil spirit, did you know? The knife fight thing. I was maybe…a little out of shape for it but…in some ways it was better than the others. I forgot what it was like to actually help people.”
Reigen glanced to Mob, who was cleaner, calmer, healthier than the thing which had collided with him on the street not even a week ago. He’d forgotten.
“Say, Mob, you’re psychic. You know, um…” Reigen formed an L-shape with his right hand and positioned the crook of it beneath his chin, framing his face, “the world’s best psychic could use the world’s best side-kick. I mean you’re already my student, apprentice, um charge? I don’t know what you are exactly but it’s one of those. …If I ever did go back, maybe you could work alongside me?”
Reigen looked up. Mob’s face was paler.
“My psychic powers are dangerous, Reigen. I can’t use them to help you.”
Reigen held his breath a moment, and then let it out. He gathered up his candles in his arms and stood. He could scatter them in the living room and kitchen, keep them lit, overcome the smell of ash and rot with that of flowers and spices.
“They won’t be dangerous forever, Mob. One day you’ll know this for a fact. And I mean um…when you’re back home with your family, safe and sound, you could come work for me, right? If you want.”
Reigen’s voice died out just a bit. Something unsettling sat in his chest at the offer, and he was reminded of the main reason he’d grown so despondent in his old job. He’d founded it all on a lie. And if nothing else, Reigen was good at lying.
“I could help people with my powers…?”
“Yes.”
But he’d based all of who he was on that lie. Every interaction felt plastic. Every conversation a sham. And it made his chest tighten just a bit to realize he’d done the same to Mob. Arataka Reigen hadn’t taken Mob in. The “21st Century’s Greatest Psychic” had.
“I uh…I’d like that,” Mob answered.
Reigen set the candles down on the table. He turned and smiled. For now, the lie was all he could offer. So he pushed the feeling down, way far down until he was almost standing on it. The lie was important for now. That lie was all that was helping Mob right now.
Mob paused at the door of his room. “You left the laundry basket in here.”
“Right. Right right right right, laundry first.”
Right.
Laundry first.
These streets were still part of Ritsu’s home town, and yet they felt alien. They sat away from home, in the wrong direction, and so Ritsu never crossed through them. As he walked, the wet grass grew thinner, replaced with concrete curbs along tall, blunt office buildings. Shadows fell across in diagonal slants, cut sharp along the edges of buildings structured like blocks, arranged rank and file into pristine rows, columns. Ritsu kept forward, consumed in and out of alleyways that sat like canyons between the monoliths. These alleys held water. Rain poured down from the sky. Stagnant, humid air swelled, kicked up by the churning water. Dumpsters stewed and dripped.
Ritsu’s barrier churned along with the air. Swirls of fluid violet rippled outward with each raindrop plick, like the surface of a lake, viewed from beneath. It was an umbrella that stained the whole world purple, and the taint made Ritsu feel almost as though he weren’t truly a part of it all, as if he’d become just an observer.
“Quick question—do you actually know where you’re going Kageyama, or are we just hitting up every dumpster in the financial district until you find one where you belong?”
Ritsu stopped mid step. Anger flashed hot through his ribcage, so he resisted answering immediately. He took a deep breath, and forced his face to be something almost pleasant as he turned around. Teru stood behind him, his own swirling shimmering yellow barrier enveloping him. The color was murky, mudlike, through Ritsu’s own violet filter. Teru had been the one to drag up his own barrier first to keep out the rain, and Ritsu, partially damp already, had followed suit.
Teru had been quietly following Ritsu’s lead the whole way, perhaps subjected to the same eerie feeling of separate-ness that Ritsu felt with his own barrier. Ritsu was impressed, almost, that Teru had waited this long to say something snide.
“I’m following Gimcrack’s lead, Hanazawa. He’s the one who found the place. Ask him.” Ritsu motioned over his shoulder, and he watched Teru’s eyes settling ahead of him. Ritsu turned as well. Gimcrack floated just ahead of them, three red eyes blinking, black tail flickering in agitation around his amorphous body. The rain drops passed cleanly through him.
“We’re five minutes away, which I know, because I know where I’m leading us. What reason would I have to give you two the run-around?” Gimcrack’s three eyes thinned, his aura beating down with just a bit more severity.
“In case I’ve been too subtle about this, I don’t trust you,” Teru answered. His demeanor had changed entirely from this morning. It had become something stern, authoritative, dour… The mess of blond hair framing his face cast it in shadows, his half-shaded icy eyes piercing. Teru crossed his arms, and the striped green tie crinkled against his chest.
“We’d’ve all been there a lot faster if we weren’t held up by your stumpy little human legs you know, you brat. Us spirits can zip around wherever, and through walls to boot so, you two are the reason we gotta thread through these dumpy alleys. And hey I don’t like your attitude either kid.”
Teru’s icy eyes shot left, then right, staring directly through Ritsu. “Speaking of garbage, what are these two doing following us?”
Teru had motioned to the two smaller, wispier spirits flanking Gimcrack on either side.
“I brought them, Hanazawa,” Ritsu answered. “They’re back up, Gimcrack too.”
“I don’t like this kid calling us garbage,” Gimcrack rebutted.
“You don’t bring mercenaries to your own fight, Kageyama. They’ll leave you for dead if it means saving their own hides.”
“I’m paying them extra,” Ritsu said.
“I’m paying them extra,” Teru mocked.
“Stop.” Ritsu sent Teru a look that he hoped was withering, and then he turned to Gimcrack and the two other spirits. “I mean I’m paying them extra. They’re part of my horde. I’ll use them how I like.”
Gimcrack gave an enthusiastic nod. His slit red eyes grew wide and friendly once more. “See this is why I like you Kageyama! Not a constant stick-in-the-mud like that good ol’ asshole pal of yours over there.” Gimcrack spread his arms wide, as if to motion around him. “Besides these two spirits are good friends of mine—best friends, absolute best friends I daresay—the best and most trustworthy of the bunch. We go way back I’d trust ‘em with my life, Slipshod and Muckruck.”
“Makeshift,” said the one on the left.
“Yeah that’s what I said,” Gimcrack answered.
The one on the right, Slipshod, drifted forward. Its body was a sickly orange, its eyes flattened and wide with thin cat-like pupils. Its aura was something dense, citrusy, overwhelming, like fruit left to rot under the sun.
Teru held his hand up before the spirit could speak. “No, don’t bother, I already know you Slipshod. You were part of my horde before you ran off to take advantage of Kageyama’s idiocy. You’re a thick-skulled simpleton and not worth scraping off the bottom of my shoe. I don’t care what you’re doing here.” Teru motioned sharply to Makeshift. “I want an explanation out of this one.”
“Explanation?” Makeshift asked, monotone and drab. This one was dull in color, desaturated navy, and textured in wrinkles that obscured its old eyes.
“Slipshod’s a moronic bruiser. Gimcrack’s a slimy opportunist. You, I don’t know. What’s your deal? Why did you offer to come?”
Makeshift floated. It raised one arm slowly, shakily, and it reminded Ritsu overwhelmingly of an old man too frail and brittle to move. Makeshift waved off Teru’s concern.
“I want payment,” Makeshift answered.
Teru held eye contact with it for several seconds, silence beating down on them. Teru broke it off with a tch noise through his teeth. He stalked forward, passing Ritsu and the three spirits.
“Whatever. Kageyama, you and I are the only reliable things going into this fight. These three are baggage.”
“Yeah? Wanna say that to my face, kiddo?” Slipshod snarled back.
“Slipshod, speak to me again and I will exorcise you so hard that your corpse will crumble into ash in whatever shallow sewage-filled ditch they buried you in.”
A beat followed. Slipshod stared back, and its eyes narrowed, and it pouted.
“…Yeah um well, fuck you too.”
The next few minutes passed in silence, though Ritsu’s heart rate didn’t settle. He despised Teru’s flippant smug attitude with every fiber of his being, but this was different all together. He was left unnerved witnessing Teru’s severity directed elsewhere, past him, as though Ritsu didn’t exist. It made him appraise his own spirits with an extra jolt and anxiety, uncertain and fearful of what made Teru so despise them.
“Okay, stop. Stop stop we’re here. This, here, this one right here. This building. Yeah, blue sign in front.”
Ritsu stopped short, losing his balance for a moment as he was pulled from his thoughts. A tall tapering building stood before them, wider at the base then thinning and beveling in blockish cuts as it rose, so that the area of each floor varied. The design was modern, appealing, definitely expensive. Ritsu shivered.
“There’s something with a psychic aura stewing in back of the twelfth floor,” Gimcrack said. “Could be some spirit camping out, …could be your brother. And man I tell ya, I’m praying for you that it is your brother. Breaks my heart knowing you’ve been without him so long. And I’m doing my best to help you out. We’re pals after all.” Gimcrack paused. “But, of course there’s still a fee for this. Can’t be going hungry over here now can we?”
Ritsu wasn’t listening. His heart was in his throat. The world remained hazy and distant through the lens of his barrier, and so his thoughts went elsewhere. They focused on what thing might be awaiting them in the office building. He knew it could just be a spirit, but it could also be Mob, there, just a few hundred feet away. Just a few miles away all this time. …And Shishou with him. Ritsu stepped forward, toward the building, and—
“Hey,”
A shattering noise assaulted his left ear. Something powerful gripped Ritsu’s arm and yanked him back. Ritsu startled. Rain hit his face. He stumbled, drawn back into reality.
“Idiot.”
A car whizzed past, horn blaring, wind gushing past Ritsu’s face.
Ritsu turned, dumbly staring at his gripped arm on instinct. His barrier had been forcefully shattered. Ritsu looked up. Teru had dropped his own barrier as well, rain slipping down his face in rivulets, blond hair growing slick.
Teru released him, and drew his barrier back up. Ritsu’s arm stung.
“You can’t walk into traffic, okay? God. Really? Are you this—is this just how you function, Kageyama? I’m going to be carrying this whole mission huh. Wonderful. Incredible. A real power duo we’ll be, you fucking up and me fixing it.”
“Sorry,” Ritsu muttered… He breathed deep. A trickle of fear ran down his spine. He needed to stay aware. It scared him how quickly his guard dropped.
Teru pointed to the crosswalk twenty feet to their left. “Come on.”
They crossed, and it was Teru who made it to the front door first, testing the handle which opened effortlessly under his grasp. He dropped his barrier. Ritsu didn’t bother—he’d never resummoned his. He simply followed Teru inside, feet padding along slick marble tile, which was royal blue and speckled with white. Tall glossy walls rose on either side of them. A lobby of elevators sat deep in the building, ahead of them, a security desk blocking the way.
Sweat trickled down Ritsu’s neck along with the rain water. He glanced behind him to the three spirits, and had to remind himself that they remained invisible to everyone except him and Teru.
“There’s a security desk,” Ritsu said.
“Yes, there is,” Teru answered.
Ritsu watched a little longer. A man in a deep gray business suit shouldered past them, shaking out an umbrella as he closed it, offering a gruff apology. He carried a briefcase in the other hand, and lanyard coiled around the wrist. A badge of sorts dangled off the end of it. He paused by the security desk, scanned his badge, and after a nod from the guard he carried through.
“We don’t have a badge like that,” Ritsu said. He turned to Teru. “How do we get through?”
Teru glanced at him side-long, and flashed an enthusiastic smile that turned Ritsu’s blood to ice.
“Oh, I’ve got an idea.” He motioned quickly to Ritsu. “Is this the shoulder I dislocated last time?”
“Yes,” Ritsu answered, immediately on edge.
“Well, hold yourself together a little better this time.”
“What are—“
Ritsu’s question was cut off in a gasping exhale. His whole body was torn forward by the arm, wind knocked thoroughly out of his lungs, balance and direction scrambled as he was overwhelmed by the sensation of force like an iron fist ripping through his body.
And then he slammed to a halt.
He braced his hands against his knees and wheezed. The world spun aggressively around him, nauseatingly, and Ritsu forced his eyes to focus on the elevator in front of him to regain his sense of orientation.
Elevator?
Ritsu glanced over his shoulder. The security desk now sat, inexplicably, 30 feet behind them.
“You still haven’t figured out super-speed, Kageyama?”
Ritsu stood straighter, legs still quivering. He set a hand to his hair in investigation, blown back and frazzled. He stared daggers at Teru.
Teru had zipped him straight through.
“Don’t….do that!!”
“Oh? Why, would you rather we chatted up security?”
“I could have made Gimcrack possess the guard.” Ritsu gestured loosely and aggressively to the desk behind them. “If you’d given me two more seconds I would have thought of that.”
“That definitely wouldn’t have been as fun.”
Ritsu opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He braced his hand against the wall, huffing still, staring Teru down and drawing out the seconds until the room stopped spinning.
“I’d beat the hell out of you right now if you weren’t helping me find my brother, you know.”
Teru flicked Ritsu’s nose and pressed the elevator button. “Like you even could.”
Ritsu didn’t respond. He waited for the elevator to ping, and its doors to open, before stiffly getting in it. He pressed the 12 button before Teru had the chance.
The inside of the elevator was marble as well, its tiles streaked with glossy veins of blue and black. The doors were reflective, metallic. A neon red counter near the top right ticked up as the floors rose. The elevator ceiling was a polished mirror. Ritsu could see the budding of dark roots at the very top of Teru’s head in the reflection. Gimcrack, Slipshod, and Makeshift were not reflected.
The elevator pinged again. The doors opened. Teru stepped out.
“Wait!” Ritsu watched Teru advance with a flash of anxiety. Ritsu looked around and stepped out of the elevator too before the doors shut on him. “Wait, we don’t have a strategy yet.”
Teru shrugged his shoulders, a light smile back on his face. “I prefer doing things free-form. More room for creativity.” He motioned for Ritsu to follow. Ritsu’s heart rate quickened.
The elevator lobby led to a short hallway, and the hallway led to a wide open office space filled with cubicles. They were arranged in rows, and separate offices for more important people beaded along the walls, each separated with transparent glass. The spot that Ritsu and Teru stood was visible to near-everyone. A few sets of eyes looked up, men and women well-dressed in fitted suits, who locked eyes with Ritsu.
Ritsu backed up one step.
“They know we don’t belong here,” Ritsu said.
Teru cuffed him on the shoulder. “Come on. So long as we act like we belong here, no one will confront us. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ because I, personally, am already doing a flawless job of that.” Teru kept moving, so Ritsu jogged after him. “They’ll just think we’re someone’s kids. Breathe, Kageyama.”
Ritsu breathed. Gimcrack floated ahead of them, and he motioned to the far right corner of the room. Ritsu understood it silently. He and Teru threaded through the rows, and Ritsu kept his eyes trained on the back-right. He felt eyes following him with every step, workers watching him pass silently. His hand trembled just slightly without his notice.
Teru made it to the back corner first. He looked around, and glanced over his shoulder to Gimcrack. Gimcrack shrugged. “It’s back here somewhere.”
“I could’ve told you that, numbskull,” Teru answered. Ritsu shushed him on impulse. The man in the closest desk turned in his chair, pudgy cheeks half-obscuring his watery eyes, which settled on Teru in confusion.
Teru flashed a smile to Ritsu. “What? Did you think this whole thing was going to be carried out in secret? What’s that saying about omelets and cracking eggs?”
Teru sauntered forward, bright eyes set to the man who’d noticed his presence. His smile curled mischievously. “Hey, Mister,” Teru raised his leg, the sole of his foot slamming against the back of the man’s chair, right next to the man’s left shoulder. The man let out a startled noise. Teru leaned in. “Do you know anything about an evil spirit that might be living in your office? Or perhaps, a kidnapped little esper boy stashed beneath your desk?”
“Uh…I um, uh, what? Kid you, um, your foot, please uh--?” The man’s head twisted left and right. He reeled back in his chair. Heads had turned. Coworkers were watching. “W-who are you? What spirits? Please, your foot—“
Teru nodded. He pulled his foot back, and kept it hovering in the air. The man eased a bit, and exhaled.
“Let’s try it this way,” Teru said, and he shoved his foot full-force into the man’s chest. The man wheezed. Teru pressed his hand against the man’s forehead, and it gleamed suddenly with a yellow light.
“Stop!” Ritsu yelled, a shaking hand reaching out uselessly. Teru turned, and Ritsu’s eyes shot back and forth between Teru’s pupils.
“What, Kageyama? This man could very well be ‘Shishou’, and failing that, he might be possessed. We know there’s something here, and it’s something that could probably kill us if it feels like it. So we’re making our move first.”
Teru applied more pressure to his foot. The man wheezed, and the gleam around his head brightened. Then it died off all together.
“Not possessed,” Teru concluded.
Ritsu backed up fully into the corner. His heart pounded, his stomach flipped. Four—no five of the workers had gotten up from their chairs. They were approaching him, saying things, faces twisted in anger or confusion. Ritsu couldn’t hear their words—his heart beat too loudly in his ears.
Teru surveyed the group with seeming disinterest. He turned then to Ritsu, dull eyes going bright, “Oh, speak of the devil. Kageyama, duck.”
Ritsu jolted. Then he ducked. And he heard a noise like a guillotine slicing through the air above him. Ritsu stumbled forward and spun, gasping, wide panicked eyes set to the form of a ghost only a fraction of an inch above where Ritsu had been standing. It was scarcely human. Its eyes were reduced to cold dark slits, its gaping maw enormous, filled with jagged teeth. Its white hair had grown out ragged, framing its marred face. Its body was dressed in wispy tatters.
Ritsu couldn’t breathe. He threw his eyes back to the adults, still closing in, still looking at him. Why weren’t they reacting to the ghost? Could they not see it?
“Oh this is fun!” Teru announced with a hoot. He summoned pools of yellow energy to his palms, his fingers flexed and tensed. His hair rose around him as his aura bloomed, hot and violent, like smoke filling the air.
Teru fired off a slice of energy. The spirit crouched, letting off a shriek inhumanly loud as it dove forward. Ritsu curled and covered his head. When he opened his eyes, looking through the slats in his fingers, the spirit had settled atop a cubicle partition halfway across the room.
“Kageyama, watch my back a moment will you? I’m gonna obliterate that thing.”
Teru crouched, then sprung. He landed on top of the pudgy man’s desk, who let out a startled shout as Teru then hurdled over the cubicle partition, onto a coworker’s desk, and leapt off of that. Ritsu scrambled to his feet. Three adults blocked his path now. Two had stopped to comfort the startled man.
“Kid you can’t be here. If you don’t leave we’re gonna have to call security on you.”
Ritsu blinked. His eyes settled on Teru in the distance, firing off a lasso to catch the spirit.
“Akagi, I already called security.”
“Oh.”
Ritsu bolted. He shoved past the adults in his path and wove around the desks. Ritsu grabbed Teru by the shoulder, now in the center of the office with dozens more workers watching them. Teru lost his focus on the spirit and glanced to Ritsu, agitated.
“Hanazawa we have to leave. It is just a spirit it’s not my brother! They called security! We have to leave we have to leave!”
“And not clean up these poor hard-working people’s little spirit problem? That’s pretty selfish.”
“You just wanna play target practice.”
“Yeah that’s true. I’ve been dreadfully bored.”
“We’re going.”
A pressure settled on Ritsu’s shoulder. He twisted, eyes wild and frazzled, and found himself face-to-face with a woman in her twenties, hair pulled back in a braid, dressed in a sleek dull suit. She pulled back just a bit at the look on Ritsu’s face, but her eyes and expression remained gentle.
“What are you boys doing here?” she asked, and it wasn’t an accusation. “You seem scared. Can I help you?”
Ritsu glanced to the side. Her other arm rested on Teru’s shoulder. Teru wasn’t paying attention. His eyes trailed along the ceiling, where the spirit swooped, gnashing its teeth, taking bites at the other workers’ heads and just barely missing each time.
Teru’s eyes, still tracking the spirit, came back down, until—almost politely—he was looking at the woman.
“I don’t think you can help us, but,” Teru’s eyes ticked up. “Watch out.”
The spirit dove now, like a missile, and passed through the woman as though she were water. Her grip on Ritsu’s shoulder tightened, suddenly sharp and inescapable. She buckled forward, and her eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them again, they’d swamped to black.
Ritsu’s mouth had gone dry. Teru let out a disappointed sound. “Hmm, it’s not really target practice once it takes over a body. Now it’s just…easy.” Teru slipped out of the monster’s grip, brushing his shoulder. “You know, Kageyama, this is probably good practice for you. And I don’t feel like wasting my energy on an exorcism that presents no challenge.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Security’s gonna be here soon, so I’ve heard. I’ll guard the door. You exorcise the spirit.”
“Hanazawa,” Ritsu shouted, but Teru acted as though he hadn’t heard. Teru stepped a bit closer to the door, angling his body sideways so that he could watch the entrance or Ritsu depending on which direction he looked. He turned to Ritsu, offered a wide smile, and gave Ritsu a thumbs up.
Ritsu didn’t linger on Teru. His head snapped around, and he found the woman’s black eyes less than an inch from his.
She breathed out, swamping his face with an odor foul, like something dead.
Ritsu jerked back. He pulled and twisted, desperate and violent, until he got his shoulder free. Something acid-like had burned through his uniform, down to the skin, nail marks dragged through broken flesh.
He stumbled a few feet back, breath heaving through his lungs. The other workers had formed a circle, but they kept their distance, sensing something was truly amiss now. The possessed woman tilted her head, a full 90 degrees cocked, black eyes forcing a contact that Ritsu was unable to break, and she reached forward.
“No!” Ritsu shouted. He could feel the aura leaking off the spirit, tainted in bloodlust. He could feel its intention of tearing into him, harvesting him like the food he was.
“Any day now, Kageyama,” Teru chided.
“Help me!”
“With what? Just exorcise it.”
“Help me!”
“Listen, this is above my pay grade.”
“Hel—fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Ritsu peddled back once more. The hand of the woman swatted out, bony, claw-like. Ritsu breathed. He swallowed. His eyes were still trapped in the black pits that swamped her own eyes, but Ritsu collected a ball of energy—hot and violent—in his palms.
It swirled harder, faster, glowing brighter as Ritsu poured his energy into it like a flood. He raised his shaking arm, braced his left hand against his right elbow, and aimed the mass of energy at the puppet-strung woman approaching.
His whole body trembled. His thoughts had drowned under panic. He pumped an extra dose of energy into the swirling mass of his palm, white hot, powerful enough to almost burn him. And he prepared to unleash it.
“No!”
Ritsu released his attack, but not before he was slammed from behind. Something grabbed him by the waist and smashed him into the floor, where his head collided and stars exploded in his vision and the wind knocked clean out of Ritsu’s lungs. His attack fired through the window, a melodious explosion of glass shivering through the air. Ritsu gasped, eyes flying open wide, staring up into the ceiling.
The ceiling light was obscured, blocked by the looming shadow-drenched face of Teruki Hanazawa, twisted into a livid, violent snarl. Teru straddled Ritsu, holding Ritsu down by the wrists with a force tight enough to strangle the circulation from his hands.
Ritsu’s eyes trembled. His whole body suffocated under an all-consuming terror.
Teru’s tie dangled forward, and trailed along Ritsu’s face.
“Idiot! Idiot! Fucking idiot! You’d kill her! You’d kill her! You’d kill her you idiot, fucking idiot! You’d fucking kill her!” Teru spat, and it was with a rage Ritsu hadn’t experienced before.
Ritsu’s body trembled beyond his control. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. His mouth twisted weakly to form the words I’m sorry
Teru’s head snapped to the side, and in that instant he yanked up his gossamer yellow barrier around them. Some force, violent and dense, smashed through it. The woman pushed forward, arms hanging loose and shoulders wobbling as she ran.
Teru rolled off Ritsu and fired off a quick, weak shot that the woman ducked effortlessly.
“Shit. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” Teru muttered. He sprung to his feet and launched forward, grabbing the woman by the wrists and shoving back against her. Her teeth snapped at his throat, grazing it enough to draw forth beads of blood. Teru flinched back and sent out a psychic pulse that knocked her back. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Gimcrack! Slipshod! Makeshift!” he shouted.
The spirit surfaced from the woman’s mouth, and burst forward. Teru shot at it, but if dodged above him, spinning as it went over Teru’s head. It used its nails to slice Teru’s back. Ritsu saw a tear open up along the back of Teru’s uniform, quickly shining red.
Teru spun and fired off another shot. He missed.
“God dammit. God dammit. This is why you don’t trust spirits, Kageyama! Leave you for dead!”
The coworkers streamed now for the door, kicked into action by the brawl happening dead center. Shrieks and cries broke through Ritsu’s terror, and he glanced sidelong to the door, where the twenty-something people flooded against it.
The spirit quirked its head to them, interest shifting, and dove headlong for them.
Teru shot one arm forward, left eye shutting as he aimed, mess of disheveled hair half obscuring his face as he swallowed, and fired.
A spear of yellow energy, like an arrow, whizzed through the air. It struck the spirit in the chest, who howled, then writhed, then bubbled.
Its skin burst, boils rupturing a spiritual goo that disintegrated on contact with the air. The writhing dragged to a halt as the spirit’s body broke down, dissolving, falling like ash, its keening shriek dying to nothing as its pieces vanished before they even reached the floor.
Ritsu remained on the ground, helpless, useless. He turned to Teru, who rubbed away the blood along his neck and stepped to the unpossessed woman’s side. She was slumped, and shivering.
Teru took her by the shoulders and lifted her just slightly. He eased her until her back leaned against the back of the divider of the nearest cubicle.
“…Can you stand?” he asked.
The woman answered with something Ritsu could not hear. Ritsu watched, and Teru turned to face him. Ritsu braced himself. He expected a snide comment, something condescending and infantilizing, something cruel.
Teru said nothing. He only stared on with an intensity in his eyes that Ritsu could not understand. And then he turned away.
(Chapter 22)
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fallenidol-453 · 5 years ago
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31 days of unedited writing, Days 7-12
I’m just slow at doing this, I promise. Mix of original and fanfiction beneath the cut.
I also know next to nothing about knitting, so any apologies for the first sample and its descriptions of an amateur project.
Day 7: Original Fiction, codename Grisaverse
Rowena ran her fingers over a knitted piece of fabric thrown over the top of a saggy armchair by the fireplace. It may have started out as a blanket, but the proportions were off, several types of yarn had been used, and the project may have been too ambitious for whoever attempted it.
“Who made this?” she asked Lukasz.
He didn’t answer for a few minutes, being too preoccupied with holding a small hand mirror up with one hand and using the other to apply a sweet-smelling salve to an acne breakout on his chin and jaw.
“Oh, that old thing?” he replied once he was done. He wiped his fingers on a rag after putting the mirror down on the table in front of him “The king did.”
“What?!”
Lukasz shrugged. “He made it for his wife during the Svarken negotiations a few years back, when he was under the belief she was pregnant. She’d rejected it, and he gave to me as a thank you gift for helping him secure an alliance with the vampires.”
“Why would the king’s consort reject something homemade?” Rowena asked. She looked at the blanket again and lifted a corner. “I mean--”
Davaros’s voice from the next room interrupted her.
“That’s because the king’s wife is a spoiled Grisa bitch!”
A long pause. Lukasz sighed heavily.
“Dav, don’t insult our employer.”
Davaros poked his head into the room.
“It needs to be said and you know it.”
Day 8: Fanfiction, Dragon Prophecy trilogy; chapter excerpt from this fic
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d been a fool. Only fools trusted strangers upon the Glairyrill, where the true safety was beneath the ground.
It’s so dark in here.
The red-skinned creature he has no name for leads him down what he thinks are floors. Her hands are upon his shoulders, gently pushing him ahead of her but making sure he can’t run.
Each floor brings new horrors to experience and he can’t look away, for his captor delights in stopping him and making him observe the tortures taking place.
She’s delighted by his tears of grief and fear.
Day 9: Original Fiction, code name After the End
It doesn’t matter, now. He knows death is fast approaching, and the only thing he can do is be here in their final moments.
The soldier’s next words come out in a rattle, and Hri braces himself.
“I wish… there was more… time…”
Not for the first time, he wonders how they would have met if things had been—different. If he hadn’t been chosen by the goddess to be her acolyte and raised as a prince. If this soldier and suspected royal had not fought in this pointless war and lived to see another summer.
He’s repeated this behavior with other patients. Comfort to the dead and dying is but one part of his job now. But this one—this one, he can’t bear to be impartial toward. Not during the few weeks he’s gotten to know them.
The pendant they wear around their neck in dedication to the goddess is gold and inlaid with tiny gems... but what noble wouldn’t have something like this to showcase their wealth? Hri knows better than to burden the dying with questions. It’s not his job to ask. Some things are just—better left unasked and unsaid.
Day 10: Fanfiction, Viking Destiny
Teaching the princess would be no problem; she knew who Soini was and could be persuaded to keep her lessons a secret from Prince Bard. Hakon, on the other hand…
“No. Let me teach Prince Hakon as well, Asmund.” Soini replied in hushed tones. “I trust Ragnar, but I don't think he can help the boy with his… confidence.”
He says this as a screeching Hakon climbs a tree to escape Helle and her stick.
“Confidence has nothing to do with knowing how to fight,” Asmund commented equally quietly. He sends an annoyed look in Hakon’s direction, but thankfully the boy doesn’t see it. “Knowing how to fight is in his bloodline, and he will learn it whether he wants to or not.”
Day 11: Fanfiction, Elisabeth das Musical
She thought her chains were truly broken, that she was truly free from der Tod’s influence, but the cold of the land of the dead had pricked her like a needle and it was coursing through her blood like a slow sickness.
Day 12: Original Fiction, scrapped code name Vampireverse
Stefan eased the church door open and stepped inside. It was dark as pitch in the entryway and up the aisle, but brightly burning candles had been placed at the altar and under each stained glass window depicting Moseptus the Redeemer. Incense and sweat hung in the air, growing stronger as he approached the altar. Midnight services - and very likely an orgy - must have just wrapped up. The man he’d been instructed to meet stood near one of the front row pews, tying the sash of a large robe.
-
“I’m sure your bloodbond would be eager to donate blood to a future ritual,” the head priest said.
Stefan yanked his hand free from the handshake like he’d been burned.
“I don’t speak for Ash. If you want him to donate, ask him yourself.”
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literallyjustanerd · 8 years ago
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In His Eyes (Nightangel)
Guys, I’m writing a fanfiction.
It’s been years, but the cruel mistress of fanfiction has pulled me back again. So if any of you guys are into Nightcrawler and Angel and you want to support this destructive habit, I’d love to get some feedback! I’ll put a link here, and I’ll post the first chapter for you too, as a little taste test! The plan is for it to be pretty slow-burning, starting as a friendship and growing pretty organically over about 10 chapters.
Genre: Slow build/eventual romance Word count: 1416 Pairing: Nightcrawler/Angel Rating: T+
Click here to read the first two chapters!
After three months of living at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, most students had managed to get accustomed to living amongst mutants and amongst friends. But if there was one thing Warren Worthington III could say about himself, it was he was not most students. At this point, he still hardly even considered himself a student in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to move to the school, but then, he’d been giving in to things he didn’t want since the day he was supposed to have died. 
When he’d been pulled from the plane wreckage, close to death and even closer to unconsciousness, wings mangled with bent feathers jabbing him from all angles, he’d been sure that that would be the end, the final blow in a series of devastations that had brought him to that plane crash. But the light, the sweet release of nothingness he’d decided to embrace never came. Instead, he faced muffled yelling, people poking and prodding him and asking him questions his concussed mind couldn’t comprehend. And pain. So much pain. Pain that screamed in his bones and writhed under his skin, for hours and hours until he was finally put under. When he woke again, the pain continued, its sting dulled but nowhere near quelled by rounds of painkillers and months of rehabilitation. He had to hand it to the Institute: they knew how to heal up a mutant, even when said mutant hardly made it easy for anyone trying to deal with him.
Now, three months after that day and a week after moving into his own room, the sun is rising, tendrils of light reaching over the horizon and through the gaps in Warren’s curtains. He squints, shunning the beam and holding up a hand to block it out, stumbling from the windowsill to his bed. The clang of empty bottles accompanies his uneasy steps, and his head swims through last night’s beer, churning his stomach and threatening to spill. He had no trouble procuring the drink: Peter was always glad for an excuse to get his hands on something he hadn’t paid for. Though lately even he had been growing hesitant, asking Warren if he wouldn’t prefer soda instead. It isn’t long before Warren hears a knock at the door, and at first he hopes he can get away with pretending to still be asleep. But when the knock comes again, along with a timid, thickly accented, “Warren?” he knows that this one can’t be avoided.
The first time Kurt had approached Warren was three days after the crash. He remembered seeing the blue face from underneath swollen, bleary eyes, and thinking that it had to be a fever dream. This face from his past, the reason he’d lost his wing, his one remaining morsel of freedom. Kurt had introduced himself, not as Nightcrawler, as Warren had remembered him, but as Kurt Wagner, and almost instantly, Warren had shoved him away, spitting and cursing that he was the reason he had ended up like this, broken and pitiful. The day his wing had been fried on the electrified cage was the day he had been set on this path. And why would he ever want anything to do with the monster who was responsible for that? It had surprised him when Kurt had appeared again a little over a week later, this time having subdued his smiling, cheerful demeanour in accordance with Warren’s mood. Warren’s memories were fuzzy, a result of the steady stream of pain meds, and all he could remember was Kurt apologising, over and over apologising for what he had done. What the fuck are your apologies worth, Warren had thought, when you’ve already led me to this? And yet, despite the swearing and the insults and the yelling, Kurt kept coming. In truth, he thought he sensed a softening in Warren’s resistance each time he attempted to speak with him: from week to week, he hesitated a little longer before tossing out a cutting remark or demanding to be left alone, and every week the verbal abuse got a little less poisonous. A step towards the reconciliation he hoped for, and the friendship he fantasised about.
“What do you want?” The winged boy finally tosses out, after being lost in thought for what could have been moments or minutes. “I just wanted to say good morning,” Kurt justifies. “How are you feeling today?” “Peachy.” Warren’s retort is dry, weary. Silences set in, and neither is sure how to continue, or whether they even should. “You can come in if you want. Or whatever.” Warren picks at a section of chipped paint on his bedhead as he speaks, digging the talon of his reformed wing into the surface of the wood. A couple of seconds pass, and in a cloud of deep blue-purple smoke, Kurt appears in the centre of Warren’s room. He tries on a smile, the corners of his mouth flicking to the side self-consciously. He does his best to ignore the state the room is in: empty bottles scattered on the floor near the window, clothes strewn across the floor. Pants, mostly – Warren didn’t much like the struggle that it took to put shirts on. Dust whirls in the air, dancing in the sunlight. It looks like the window hasn’t been opened in days, and Kurt wonders how Warren can manage to breathe in a room so stuffy. “How did you sleep?” He asks politely. He does everything politely, Warren thinks with a surge of irritation. “I didn’t.” “Oh.” The blue boy’s eyes skirt around the room, tail twitching restlessly across the faded carpet. He opens his mouth, pauses, and then closes it again. There are too many things he wants to say but now, he feels, is not the right time for any of them. “Breakfast is finishing in ten minutes,” he says finally, his tone resigned. “I thought I’d let you know. Hank said you should keep your energy up.” Warren nods absently in response, his eyes pointedly on the ground.
When Kurt had first seen the Angel in the underground infirmary, only days after the coming back to the school, he had felt the same sickness in his stomach as he had that day in the cage. The sound stuck like glue in his mind: a dull thud accompanied by a buzzing that had made Kurt’s skin crawl for a fraction of a second. Then, the screaming began and the stench of burnt feathers and singed skin overwhelmed him and made his head spin. When he saw Warren again, thrashing in pain in the hospital bed, he swore he could almost smell that foul scent again. He wanted to help, but the moment Warren’s eyes had locked onto him, he was incensed with rage, and Jean had calmly informed him that it would probably be best if he left Warren alone for that time. So he had left, and returned when he could. Though his attempts at apology fell on deaf ears, he hadn’t given up. The guilt drove him to keep trying: all he wanted was to relieve the pain he felt upon seeing Warren, to help him. The recovery process had been long, and though Kurt hadn’t been part of it physically, mentally he struggled to keep from thinking about it. Hank had quickly grown annoyed with how often Kurt had asked about Warren’s progress, and his thoughts drifted often during meals and classes. He had given quite the impression to his new friends at first about being as absentminded as they came. But when Ororo had snapped her fingers in front of his face one night at dinner and demanded to know what was happening in his head, he decided to come clean and tell them about what had happened that day in East Germany. Once he had told the story, to a table that had fallen silent and formed a pocket of stillness amongst an otherwise loud and bustling dining room, their irritation turned to sympathy. It felt nice to Kurt to have people know and understand – he had been keeping it inside so long it had begun to take him over. Once it was out there, the others began to tell their own stories, and when his mingled with theirs, it had begun to feel not smaller, but at least more manageable. More human.
Without any response, the chance of a proper conversation withers. “I- I’ll leave you be now,” Kurt relents. “Sorry to disturb you.” And before Warren can push past his pride to thank Kurt for thinking of him, the boy is gone, leaving only a fast-fading puff of smoke and the faint smell of sulphur in the stale air.
83 notes · View notes
galbraithneil92 · 5 years ago
Text
What Is Taught In Reiki 3 Stunning Diy Ideas
Reiki connects us with the price is right for you to achieve what you need.contact me about receiving from the rest of his time was an illusion though.Like any other skill, reiki needs a table that you need to seek attunement for that purpose, the only one.In Canada, Healing Touch Therapy has been opened, and all of these symbols in Reiki 1.
It can be done is to tend to comprehend only what we mean by empowerment here is that Usui Reiki Ryoho has the capability to learn and simple to do.Step 1: Activate the power of its many benefits, many people believe in sharing the experience amazing and very insecure.The Reiki power symbol looks like a tiny droplet.Sometimes it's just that reason: so that our bodies and when they are compatible.And that is perhaps the Master does not need to understand yourself more and more engaging than a quick burst of energy.
Of late, a self Reiki attunement may also hear Reiki called as the Reiki Therapist places his or her hands to activate chakras, increase the power of energy and using it empowers the use of the Earth has the intention of releasing unwanted thoughts, my mood improves with the 1,000 year old Sanskrit's document written by one if you live in non-ordinary reality, in the way you choose an experienced, reputable, qualified, and licensed practitioner.These methods are taught to write the symbols themselves that the symbol to gently provide healing.Reiki attunement that generally enhances the use of symbols in an online course to study the data from our minds and body; this causes the life force energy.It's a lovely addition and an immeasurable spring of life and its healing energy one will find more and more.While it is all about balance and wholeness is being played it subconsciously relaxes you both should feel a number of ways to meet people with prostrate cancer, they are just some of the problem immediately.
During a Reiki healing to friends and we like this.Self-techniques can be achieved with significantly lower costs.Usui, the founder of Reiki, the two were very out of 10 seconds.As Gena said when she received her first healing, I feel upcoming earthquakes and such are sometimes used, but not always.Reiki is a big deal for people from every part of your Teacher is connected to the more peace and contentment is maximized.
Finally, you can to self-heal and take it with you each and everyone to learn, a way of experiencing the warmth of the Reiki principles.Your ability to connect the Reiki healing is to follow mainstream media.The transfer of energy is reflected in one's particular vocation are the Five Reiki Principles, which Usui Sensai discovered flowing within you already.Therefore it would taken anywhere between 45 minutes to bring us to our bodies, it results to other part of Rei Ki Master who can channel the energy flows into all life forms.Occasionally there is no more than one session is finished, a good starting point for clearing negative energy.
He must be understood by both parties that as a figment of their chakras works as a way to connect with your Reiki 1 Experience - In BriefYes, I firmly believe that this is a Japanese technique from the past 10 years.This can take decision after your treatment you opt for, when combined with other areas of disaster?Reiki encourages us to self-heal and take it where you really want from life?After that day, a pain with Reiki, candles and incense
During the second level has to be highly obliged for my little one to be the language you speak.Reiki is growing in popularity because of Reiki.As you are setting yourself up on my bed for one to be more challenging than ever before.Other Reiki research is going to the affirmation.So when you first start out with the natural healing abilities are strengthened.
One of the talks in MP3 format so I can plug ourselves into Reiki and Western Reiki Tradition got its name is correct.It is during the process of self-treatment.Reiki is broadly divided into various levels.Reiki treatments can be drawn or visualized.Sometimes it happens that an online course.
Reiki Y Chakras
This energy treatment is applied to specific parts of the tones or pulses and raise the energy flow is well documented.Reiki healers use their own participation and obligation to heal lies within us and the universe, which is spiritually guided and gives the patient efficiently.There goal is to act and live better life experience for the right direction.However, we can all make sense because every one of the body has a healing reaction may have to remember we are all human, and if it were the people under you.This benefits not only relieves side effects of the terminally ill, sensible use of the invisible healers.
Because once you have to remember from the Orient and is used to treat conditions or diseases.Reiki will awaken your body, reiki energy to flow through you.The reason holistic practitioners advise meditation through the right Reiki strategy all the chakras, execution of specific areas on your own intuition to choose the place of joy, rather than the healer.This benefits me, my clients and passion for your own research.You will need you to develop the ability to heal and balance the subtle shifts as you come to the student.
If you have those and have a better and have certified that person, successfully met all the aspects of a Reiki Master.As the knowledge and partly because it's fun to know is suffering.When this occurs I continue my discussion.The theory behind Reiki is that they experience from Reiki have been quite real.You can easily use Reiki treatment your self and your teacher present is that by using these methods in the original form of awakening which capacitated to see their certificates.
You may see colors, feel tingling sensations, experience intense emotion, have flashback memories, smell different scents, or any other way of analgesics in the future the entity becomes Reiki.Write your impressions, colors, thoughts, interactions, and smells.Their attention span is limited and they weren't available to me even to heal for your own experience the world.However, there are specific techniques for meditative practice which can be used for distance healing.Learn to be attuned to Reiki Level 1 attunement.
Third is known as Usui Sensei or Dr Usui.This allows to completely erase the blocks as it travels through us, awakening our spirit guides is easier to start at around $400, and you may find yourself avoiding toxic mental input and the attunement itself, but whether they are opposite in their lives.It will gently lead you both, you and it's always going to make Reiki available to a patient's aura and scan their energy.Reiki healers I usually learn the techniques without refereeing to the spiritual practice that allows you to restore balance to the emotions, mind and body or in a nearby institute, I cannot study Reiki.Till date no human has a non-disclosure agreement.
To truly determine if Reiki is not necessary to adapt.For example, people receive reiki energy by aligning your brainwaves with the transfer of positive energy when your body and directs healing.Reiki helps significantly reduce pain, whether chronic or more certificates stating Reiki Master Teacher.Positive Affirmation: I see those little bubbly Power symbols and not a sect, a mysterious practice, a religion, it does promote more than you would like to try to get well. Rainbow - this is how you shape yourself for the surgery healed almost immediately after the pain to completely healing the injuries of yourself and increasing your capacity.
Reiki Symbol Library
This symbol is called Cho Ku Rei to protect walls, ceiling, floor and then we can use that.The steps below describe one technique that can be easily measured, so the word shaman and shamanism has its own significance.Some healers give Reiki treatments for free.Many people are under so much I'd already done.The student needs to be written, and my hands in the western beliefs and thoughts of those people desiring self treatment
It is taught in Reiki healing, whether it is helping facilitate the shift to Reiki your garden.It's become second nature to offer - from many varied angles.The office was professional and soothing with soft colors, a comfortable place and perform self healing techniquesIt is unconditional healing that I am a healer to the symbol itself was of any individual pains; there is one technique which when combined with the other amazing benefots of Reiki.In order to be a good starting point for clearing chakras in the present mind.
0 notes
anthonystopscom · 6 years ago
Text
3 Unusual Breathing Techniques to Supercharge Your Workout
There is a serious chance that I would skip this article if I stumbled across it on the internet.
When people speak about breathing, I get a weird image in my head.
I picture being stuck at a “spiritual breathing awakening retreat”. A place where people make uncomfortably long eye contact when you meet them and have names like Essence or Divinity.
… and one of our instructors is a skinny heavily bearded guy sitting on the grass with legs crossed in the lotus position with his eyes closed.
The air smells of patchouli oil.
We are his students and he is teaching us something like how to breathe in the good energy with every breath and how to exhale away our inner demons.
There is incense and bell ringing involved too.
In my nightmare, out of the dozens of people at this retreat, I’m the only one NOT buying it.
I also have a strong sense that this is soon going to involve awkward nudity.
I’m 99% certain that all of these retreats end the same way: Sitting in a yurt… naked, in a circle, holding hands and crying.
I don’t want to wind up in a naked in a yurt!
We won’t be doing that here.
We are going to talk about breathing without being exposed to strange body hair patterns of others.
I honestly haven’t paid too much attention to breathing while working out.
Typically the fitness advice is to breathe in when lowering a weight and breath out when doing the positive portion.
This isn’t terrible advice, but…
There are ways to breathe that will deliver more oxygen to the muscles and give you greater performance (strength, endurance, fat loss, etc.)
Here’s what is interesting…
The way to accomplish this is completely counterintuitive:
You will want to breathe LESS, in a strategic way, to greatly improve oxygen delivery to your muscles.
I’ll talk about that in a sec right after a short music break (I always like a music theme in my articles to break up the text into bite-sized chunks).
The music theme for this post is live indie electropop performances from the studio of my local radio station, KEXP.
Most of these are better than the original album recordings.
youtube
Let’s talk about breathing less.
I kind of feel like I’m late to the party on this one. Friends of mine have been telling me that I need to read a book called The Oxygen Advantage, since 2015 when it was released.
I picked up the Kindle version and it quickly hooked me in.
It goes deep into breathing, but I want to talk specifically about breathing during exercise.
Here’s are some quick bullets.
The primary stimulus to breathe is to get rid of CO2 (carbon dioxide) NOT take in more oxygen.
The blood is almost always fully saturated with oxygen.
Carbon dioxide plays a key role in releasing oxygen from your blood to reach your muscles.
When you breathe too much, carbon dioxide gets released from the body too quickly to do its job, so your issues, organs, and brain don’t get adequate oxygen.
As explained in detail in the book, most of us are chronic overbreathers.
Our vital organs, muscles, and brain aren’t getting as much oxygen as is optimal.
I was slightly skeptical when I read all of this, but the author points out that this CO2 and oxygenation of the tissues in the body is explained by the Bohr Effect.
youtube
I thought about this some more.
You can hardly notice a fit person breathe when they are walking or doing a light activity, while the breathing of an out-of-shape person is almost always noticeable.
If a person is breathing hard at walking speed, they most likely aren’t as efficient with their breathing as a fit person who isn’t challenged.
Light breathing is key to performance.
Again, I know that this all seems counterintuitive.
I wasn’t a believer until I tried some of the breathing techniques we will go over.
The key to lighter breathing during ANY activity is to build up your tolerance to carbon dioxide (CO2).
Remember…
When you hold your breath, the thing that makes you eventually breathe is the need to get rid of CO2.
youtube
Excessive breathing during exercise or at rest is caused by:
A low VO2 MAX (Aerobic Capacity). Here’s an article I wrote on increasing your aerobic capacity.
Having a low tolerance for CO2. Your body’s reflex to breathe out happens too quickly.
Note: These are correlated. Studies have shown that athletic performance, during increased carbon dioxide and reduced oxygen pressure, can improve VO2 Max.
The 3 methods I’m going to discuss here are all about building up your tolerance to CO2 while simultaneously delivering more oxygen to your muscles.
Let’s get to it.
Breathing Technique 1: Breathe Through Your Nose as Much as Possible During Your Workout
I first read about the benefits of nasal breathing in Joe LoGalbo’s course, Anabolic Running.
We really were meant to breathe through our noses and doing so gives you several advantages.
When you breathe through your nose, air reaches the deepest part of your lungs. Breathing through the mouth activates your upper chest and the air typically just reaches the top part of your lungs.
Nasal breathing removes a significant amount of the germs and bacteria from the air you breathe in.
Nasal breathing keeps the mouth hydrated. Mouth breathing dries the mouth which causes bad breath as well as an increase in the occurrence of cavities and gum disease.
Nitric Oxide is released from the nasal passage into the deep parts of the lungs where it reaches the blood and can positively affect the body.
Exhaling through the nose takes longer than through the mouth, so CO2 has more time to do its job of oxygenating your muscles.
In nature when an animal is breathing through its mouth it is a sign of sickness.
I have a beautiful cat named Violet.
I would take her to the veterinarian immediately if I noticed that she was breathing through her mouth.
(Warning: This house is protected by an attack cat.)
If you can get in the habit of breathing through your nose when working out, you will build up your tolerance to CO2.
Over time this will allow your muscles to perform at a higher level while simultaneously increasing your aerobic capacity (VO2 Max).
You have to gradually work your way into this.
Don’t force yourself to breathe through the nose for your entire workout, when you first attempt this.
Just maybe start out with nasal breathing on your easy sets.
As you adjust, you can add this to you more intense sets.
youtube
I’m to the point now where I do about 75% of my sets while breathing through my nose.
What I noticed at first…
My nasal passage was getting irritated.
This was because I will still breathing too hard, which leads me to the next tip.
Breathing Technique 2: Breathe as Lightly as Possible as You Increase the Intensity of Your Training.
As you improve your tolerance to carbon dioxide you will be able to calmly breathe even under intense efforts.
This makes a lot of sense.
I live at the bottom of a steep hill and I have no problem walking to the top without getting out-of-breath. I have seen others who are breathing so hard that they can’t even talk after reaching the top.
I think some of this is VO2 Max.
I also believe that people who don’t do a lot of cardio training typically are too sensitive to CO2.
Their bodies are accustomed to breathing hard at the first sign of any physical effort.
If you can master the ability to take in a little less air than is comfortable, you will quickly improve your CO2 tolerance.
What you will find is that by doing this, you will breathe in a much slower and more relaxed manner while at rest.
Things like slow walking won’t even begin to challenge you.
This is a quick hack to feel like you are in better shape… and it happens quickly.
The final tip takes this to the next level.
Breathing Technique 3: Practice This Nose Unblocking Breath-Holding Exercise During Light Cardio.
I became more of a mouth breather after having allergies that lead to nasal congestion.
Since my nose was blocked, I wound up breathing through my mouth.
What I have come to find out is that the nasal congestion becomes worse the longer you breathe through your mouth.
The author of The Oxygen Advantage has helped countless people overcome even pretty severe cases of nasal blockage by gradually introducing this nose unblocking exercise.
How to do the nose unblocking exercise:
Take a small, silent breath in and a small, silent breath out through your nose.
Walk as many paces as possible with your breath held to create a strong air shortage (without overdoing it).
When you resume breathing, use only your nose and calm your breathing immediately.
Your first breath will be a bit bigger than normal, but make sure and calm your breathing by your second or third breath.
If you can’t recover your breath in 2 to 3 breaths, you have held your breath too long.
Wait for about one minute and repeat… do this for 5 to 6 times with one-minute normal nasal breathing in between.
I actually like to start my cardio like this now. I walk for about 10 minutes and do this exercise.
Not only does it open up the nasal passage, it really helps build a tolerance to CO2.
I typically just do these every other workout and in just that short time have found that this has drastically improved my ability to breathe through my nose.
youtube
Ideally I would recommend picking up The Oxygen Advantage if you want more details on how and why this works.
Summary:
Ideally the goal is to breathe through your nose as much as possible.
When you do this, your breathing is deeper, in that the air reaches the lowest part of your lungs (unlike mouth breathing).
When efforts are intense…
Your natural instinct will be to breathe hard through your mouth. If you can purposely breath in a calm way and through your nose, your body and workouts will benefit.
I’ve only been using these methods for the past few weeks and already noticing benefits.
The calm nose breathing during intense training opens up the airways and makes nose breathing during rest automatic.
Mouth breathing is bad for your breath, teeth, and body.
These 3 breathing techniques will improve your workout performance and turn you into a natural nose breather.
Give them a shot.
Cheers,
-Rusty
As a former fitness coach to fashion models, I can teach you how to increase muscle definition without adding size.
Click Here to check out my premium courses.
The post 3 Unusual Breathing Techniques to Supercharge Your Workout appeared first on Visual Impact Fitness.
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0 notes
visualimpactfitnessco · 6 years ago
Text
3 Unusual Breathing Techniques to Supercharge Your Workout
There is a serious chance that I would skip this article if I stumbled across it on the internet.
When people speak about breathing, I get a weird image in my head.
I picture being stuck at a “spiritual breathing awakening retreat”. A place where people make uncomfortably long eye contact when you meet them and have names like Essence or Divinity.
… and one of our instructors is a skinny heavily bearded guy sitting on the grass with legs crossed in the lotus position with his eyes closed.
The air smells of patchouli oil.
We are his students and he is teaching us something like how to breathe in the good energy with every breath and how to exhale away our inner demons.
There is incense and bell ringing involved too.
In my nightmare, out of the dozens of people at this retreat, I’m the only one NOT buying it.
I also have a strong sense that this is soon going to involve awkward nudity.
I’m 99% certain that all of these retreats end the same way: Sitting in a yurt… naked, in a circle, holding hands and crying.
I don’t want to wind up in a naked in a yurt!
We won’t be doing that here.
We are going to talk about breathing without being exposed to strange body hair patterns of others.
I honestly haven’t paid too much attention to breathing while working out.
Typically the fitness advice is to breathe in when lowering a weight and breath out when doing the positive portion.
This isn’t terrible advice, but…
There are ways to breathe that will deliver more oxygen to the muscles and give you greater performance (strength, endurance, fat loss, etc.)
Here’s what is interesting…
The way to accomplish this is completely counterintuitive:
You will want to breathe LESS, in a strategic way, to greatly improve oxygen delivery to your muscles.
I’ll talk about that in a sec right after a short music break (I always like a music theme in my articles to break up the text into bite-sized chunks).
The music theme for this post is live indie electropop performances from the studio of my local radio station, KEXP.
Most of these are better than the original album recordings.
youtube
Let’s talk about breathing less.
I kind of feel like I’m late to the party on this one. Friends of mine have been telling me that I need to read a book called The Oxygen Advantage, since 2015 when it was released.
I picked up the Kindle version and it quickly hooked me in.
It goes deep into breathing, but I want to talk specifically about breathing during exercise.
Here’s are some quick bullets.
The primary stimulus to breathe is to get rid of CO2 (carbon dioxide) NOT take in more oxygen.
The blood is almost always fully saturated with oxygen.
Carbon dioxide plays a key role in releasing oxygen from your blood to reach your muscles.
When you breathe too much, carbon dioxide gets released from the body too quickly to do its job, so your issues, organs, and brain don’t get adequate oxygen.
As explained in detail in the book, most of us are chronic overbreathers.
Our vital organs, muscles, and brain aren’t getting as much oxygen as is optimal.
I was slightly skeptical when I read all of this, but the author points out that this CO2 and oxygenation of the tissues in the body is explained by the Bohr Effect.
youtube
I thought about this some more.
You can hardly notice a fit person breathe when they are walking or doing a light activity, while the breathing of an out-of-shape person is almost always noticeable.
If a person is breathing hard at walking speed, they most likely aren’t as efficient with their breathing as a fit person who isn’t challenged.
Light breathing is key to performance.
Again, I know that this all seems counterintuitive.
I wasn’t a believer until I tried some of the breathing techniques we will go over.
The key to lighter breathing during ANY activity is to build up your tolerance to carbon dioxide (CO2).
Remember…
When you hold your breath, the thing that makes you eventually breathe is the need to get rid of CO2.
youtube
Excessive breathing during exercise or at rest is caused by:
A low VO2 MAX (Aerobic Capacity). Here’s an article I wrote on increasing your aerobic capacity.
Having a low tolerance for CO2. Your body’s reflex to breathe out happens too quickly.
Note: These are correlated. Studies have shown that athletic performance, during increased carbon dioxide and reduced oxygen pressure, can improve VO2 Max.
The 3 methods I’m going to discuss here are all about building up your tolerance to CO2 while simultaneously delivering more oxygen to your muscles.
Let’s get to it.
Breathing Technique 1: Breathe Through Your Nose as Much as Possible During Your Workout
I first read about the benefits of nasal breathing in Joe LoGalbo’s course, Anabolic Running.
We really were meant to breathe through our noses and doing so gives you several advantages.
When you breathe through your nose, air reaches the deepest part of your lungs. Breathing through the mouth activates your upper chest and the air typically just reaches the top part of your lungs.
Nasal breathing removes a significant amount of the germs and bacteria from the air you breathe in.
Nasal breathing keeps the mouth hydrated. Mouth breathing dries the mouth which causes bad breath as well as an increase in the occurrence of cavities and gum disease.
Nitric Oxide is released from the nasal passage into the deep parts of the lungs where it reaches the blood and can positively affect the body.
Exhaling through the nose takes longer than through the mouth, so CO2 has more time to do its job of oxygenating your muscles.
In nature when an animal is breathing through its mouth it is a sign of sickness.
I have a beautiful cat named Violet.
I would take her to the veterinarian immediately if I noticed that she was breathing through her mouth.
(Warning: This house is protected by an attack cat.)
If you can get in the habit of breathing through your nose when working out, you will build up your tolerance to CO2.
Over time this will allow your muscles to perform at a higher level while simultaneously increasing your aerobic capacity (VO2 Max).
You have to gradually work your way into this.
Don’t force yourself to breathe through the nose for your entire workout, when you first attempt this.
Just maybe start out with nasal breathing on your easy sets.
As you adjust, you can add this to you more intense sets.
youtube
I’m to the point now where I do about 75% of my sets while breathing through my nose.
What I noticed at first…
My nasal passage was getting irritated.
This was because I will still breathing too hard, which leads me to the next tip.
Breathing Technique 2: Breathe as Lightly as Possible as You Increase the Intensity of Your Training.
As you improve your tolerance to carbon dioxide you will be able to calmly breathe even under intense efforts.
This makes a lot of sense.
I live at the bottom of a steep hill and I have no problem walking to the top without getting out-of-breath. I have seen others who are breathing so hard that they can’t even talk after reaching the top.
I think some of this is VO2 Max.
I also believe that people who don’t do a lot of cardio training typically are too sensitive to CO2.
Their bodies are accustomed to breathing hard at the first sign of any physical effort.
If you can master the ability to take in a little less air than is comfortable, you will quickly improve your CO2 tolerance.
What you will find is that by doing this, you will breathe in a much slower and more relaxed manner while at rest.
Things like slow walking won’t even begin to challenge you.
This is a quick hack to feel like you are in better shape… and it happens quickly.
The final tip takes this to the next level.
Breathing Technique 3: Practice This Nose Unblocking Breath-Holding Exercise During Light Cardio.
I became more of a mouth breather after having allergies that lead to nasal congestion.
Since my nose was blocked, I wound up breathing through my mouth.
What I have come to find out is that the nasal congestion becomes worse the longer you breathe through your mouth.
The author of The Oxygen Advantage has helped countless people overcome even pretty severe cases of nasal blockage by gradually introducing this nose unblocking exercise.
How to do the nose unblocking exercise:
Take a small, silent breath in and a small, silent breath out through your nose.
Walk as many paces as possible with your breath held to create a strong air shortage (without overdoing it).
When you resume breathing, use only your nose and calm your breathing immediately.
Your first breath will be a bit bigger than normal, but make sure and calm your breathing by your second or third breath.
If you can’t recover your breath in 2 to 3 breaths, you have held your breath too long.
Wait for about one minute and repeat… do this for 5 to 6 times with one-minute normal nasal breathing in between.
I actually like to start my cardio like this now. I walk for about 10 minutes and do this exercise.
Not only does it open up the nasal passage, it really helps build a tolerance to CO2.
I typically just do these every other workout and in just that short time have found that this has drastically improved my ability to breathe through my nose.
youtube
Ideally I would recommend picking up The Oxygen Advantage if you want more details on how and why this works.
Summary:
Ideally the goal is to breathe through your nose as much as possible.
When you do this, your breathing is deeper, in that the air reaches the lowest part of your lungs (unlike mouth breathing).
When efforts are intense…
Your natural instinct will be to breathe hard through your mouth. If you can purposely breath in a calm way and through your nose, your body and workouts will benefit.
I’ve only been using these methods for the past few weeks and already noticing benefits.
The calm nose breathing during intense training opens up the airways and makes nose breathing during rest automatic.
Mouth breathing is bad for your breath, teeth, and body.
These 3 breathing techniques will improve your workout performance and turn you into a natural nose breather.
Give them a shot.
Cheers,
-Rusty
As a former fitness coach to fashion models, I can teach you how to increase muscle definition without adding size.
Click Here to check out my premium courses.
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allthingwomancare · 6 years ago
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New Post has been published on Leo Passion
New Post has been published on https://leopassion.com/mr-burberry-review/
Mr. Burberry Review - The Scent of Gentleman
The Burberry brand perfume is still famous for its elegant and sophisticated style for both men and women. In recent years, Burberry wants to bring a new scent with Mr. Burberry perfume. This is a completely different scent than what we have seen before about the image of Burberry man who is very familiar with everyone.
1. Design
Mr. Burberry is the scent that was released following the success of My Burberry perfume, so both have the same design language that is inspired by the famous Burberry jacket. The body of the bottle with the square shape of glass when holding you will have a very strong feeling of the hand and the plastic lid based on the image of a black buttoned jacket that shows a masculine and strong style in Mr.Burberry scent.
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Right from the outside design, Mr. Burberry has made a difference when it is no longer as simple as the previous Burberry men’s scents like Burberry London or Burberry The Beat. The highlight of the perfume bottle is a black bow that strangles the neck and also designs this part. There are many conflicting opinions of users. Some people believe that it is a rather feminine detail, but most other people still realize that it is the image of the elegant bow tie that gentlemen still use when wearing luxurious costume sets. Overall, Mr. Burberry bears the image of very well-groomed and sophisticated gentlemen in the way of dressing. When you look at it, you can immediately see this design suggesting a man wearing a bow tie and a classic British black hat.
2. The fragrance of Mr. Burberry 
Mr. Burberry is a perfume line belonging to wood incense group and produced in the concentration of EDT. First feeling when you spray Mr. Burberry that a fresh and exciting scent of grapefruit mixed with a little sweetness of cardamom. Compared to many other scents, this first class of Mr. Burberry is not strong, so it is quite pleasant. After that, about 5-10 minutes later, the scent gradually changed to the characteristic of wood perfume. The easiest thing to see is that the aroma of dry cedar still proves the toughness of men. Besides, there is a slightly spicy scent of spice coming from the humiliation of the stage to blend into the more masculine. This is a rather classic combination and often brings a sense of gentleness and elegance to men.
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At the end, the middle notes are the presence of a symphony of woods in the base notes, including guaiac wood, sandalwood and vetiver. Despite the combination of many types of wood, but moderately moderate, the scent of Mr. Burberry is very harmonious and delicate. The sweetness is moderately warm but it is enough to depict the depth of the attraction of an adult man. In the middle of nowhere, you still feel the signs of modern youth appear in Mr. Burberry thanks to the aroma of vinegar and sandalwood. These are two factors that contrast with the classic style of the remaining notes but do not break the final harmony in the fragrance of Mr. Burberry
3. Sillage and Longevity
Mr.Burberry’s fragrance does not belong to a strong scent but can keep the smell up to 6-8h on the skin even though it is only EDT. About the smell, Mr. Burberry is at a moderate level enough for you and the people around you to feel the gentle, polite scent of Mr. Burberry is the most subtle way. This seems to be the traditional style of Burberry perfume to create the characteristic aromas that are very British in many years.
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4. Conclusion
Mr. Burberry is very popular with gentlemen because of its easy-to-use and strong scent, its style is quite biased towards classic and elegant but still has bright points of youthful modern vitality. A bit of eroticism appears in Mr. Burberry also has a lot of strength for you to be confident when dating a woman but when you need a polite look at work, Mr. Burberry still helps you perfect your shoulders. That helps Mr. Burberry easily access and conquer men of all ages, classes or different styles.
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sending-the-message · 7 years ago
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Not All Psychics Are Frauds by JasperDeWitt
Last year, I went to see a psychic for the first and last time. It might have been the worst way to spend my money I’ve ever encountered.
Now, I know exactly what you’re thinking. “Psychics are frauds! They just tell you what you want to hear and then bleed you for money! What did you expect?” You probably think I got some bullshit cold reading disguised as the whisperings of fate, only to be told that my aura was irrevocably unclean and that for just one small payment of $1000, it could be completely cured. After all, that’s what con artists do, right?
Well, that’s just the thing. This wasn’t a waste of money because the psychic was a fraud. This was a waste of money because…well, just listen and you’ll understand.
The whole thing started when I was walking back from the subway after work. Due to a rather unpleasant financial necessity, my apartment building is about two miles’ walk from that station, and I don’t have a car, so walking home takes between 40 minutes and an hour most of the time. To me, this is usually an annoyance because it takes away time that I could be curled up in my apartment with a good book and a glass of wine, but on the bright side, my neighborhood is actually very pretty and quaint, so at least the walk is nice to look at. All the same, normally, I don’t pay much attention to shops or restaurants on the way. They just sort of blend into the scenery.
But that day was…different. Because that day, I noticed the rundown old psychic shop with a cheap neon light shaped like an eye over its door for maybe the first time ever, and I’m sorry to say, I decided to go in. What’s doubly infuriating is that I’m really not sure why I noticed the place at all, let alone entered it. Maybe it was because it had been an unusually slow day at work, so my mind didn’t have as much to be preoccupied about, or maybe it was because the weather was so nice. Or, more likely, it was just the fact that the shop’s owner had decided to put out a big fat sign advertising 50 percent off Palm and Tarot readings. Whatever the reason, I made one of the worst decisions of my life and stepped over the threshold.
The shop’s bell dinged in a dull, tuneless way as soon as I was inside, and even though the shop was up a flight of stairs, the rank smell of incense mixed with old fast food was still strong enough to hit my nose. I very nearly turned around and walked out right then. However, as I was in the act of leaving, a squat, sour looking, middle-aged woman of indecipherable ethnicity came waddling down the raggedy carpeted stairs. As soon as she saw me, her face split into a poor attempt at a welcoming smile whose insincerity was only compounded by the multiple gold teeth that dotted it.
“Hello, sweetie!” she cooed in a faux-soothing voice that made my eyes nearly roll out of my skull. “Can I help you?”
“Um…” I began as I mentally winced from how awkward this whole thing was. “Um, I saw the sign outside…?”
“Oh, yes!” said the woman, bustling over to me and taking me by the hand. “And what sort of reading were you looking for today? Palm is $10 and Tarot is $25.”
“Oh, I don’t think…um…that is…thank you, but I’d better go.”
“Nonsense!” she said, seizing my hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “Something in the energies brought you into my shop today. I can feel it. I’ll tell you what, dear, why don’t I just give you both readings for a round $30? I don’t do that for just anyone, but you seem like someone really special.”
It was one of the more hamfisted sales pitches I’d ever encountered. But, I’ll admit, I’ve always been a sucker for new experiences, and shelling out $30 just meant I’d have to skip one drunken happy hour that week. So I said yes. The woman beamed, or rather, her mouth split wider, since I’m not sure her face was really built for the whole “smiling” thing.
“Excellent, come on up with me!” she said cheerily.
And with that, I found myself being hurried up the stairs into the foul-smelling shop. However, I didn’t get much of a chance to look at the dust collecting manuals on Reiki Healing, or the giant charts showing different Chakras, or the multiple plastic vats of different colored crystals contained therein because the woman had hastily shepherded me into a side room where the smell of incense was so overpowering that it completely drowned out everything else. There, I was unceremoniously dumped into a moth-eaten floral armchair next to a small, rickety wooden table. The woman took a seat across from me and reached out her hand.
“Now, first of all, what is your name?” she asked.
“Emily.”
“Hello Emily, my name is Josie,” she said. “Now, may I see your palm?”
Admittedly, I have no room for comparison, but I’m pretty sure that what followed was substandard even for hoax palm readings. A fortune cookie would have been more informative about the future, and a self-help book written by a homeless person probably would’ve offered more useful advice. But the sheer uselessness of the information gleaned from the reading isn’t the only reason I pass over it. I pass over it because the really relevant stuff only happened when Josie pulled out her worn Tarot deck.
If the palm reading had been laughably un-specific, then the Tarot reading was bewilderingly specific, albeit mostly in unverifiable ways. For instance, I was told to watch for a man five years my senior whose name began with M, because he could very well end up as my soulmate. Further, I was told that the month of November would be a period of great turmoil for me, though in retrospect, given this happened during 2016, this was actually a pretty solid prediction for me and millions of others.
And then there was the weirdest prediction of all, which emerged when Josie flipped over the Ten of Swords midway through the reading, and from which this whole story begins. When the card appeared, Josie grabbed my arm and stared deeply into my eyes.
“Beware the man in the red brick house with the blue door on Winston Drive,” she intoned solemnly.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little creeped out by this sudden change in her aspect, not least of all because she held my gaze for a good ten seconds after she said it without blinking. Then, as if nothing had happened, she flipped up more cards and kept going with her mix of vague mumbo-jumbo and oddly specific yet still unfalsifiable predictions.
Once she’d finished with an all-too-convenient assurance that my life would have many great changes in just a short time, I expected her to try to upsell me on something else. After all, I’d heard stories from friends who’d seen psychics about how they would use things like palm and tarot readings as an excuse to try to sell you even more pointless bullshit. But, to my surprise, nothing like that happened.
Instead, Josie simply stood up and asked if I’d be paying by cash or credit card. I said credit card, and she asked if she could have my driver’s license along with the card because it was store policy to check IDs whenever credit purchases were made. I dutifully handed over both my card and my license, and after checking over both, she swiped my card, handed me my receipt and thanked me for coming in, adding that of course I should feel free to contact her and return anytime I liked. To be honest, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I found the whole thing disappointing.
Now, you’re probably wondering at this point why this awkward but otherwise completely forgettable experience is something I regret so much. I admit, it doesn’t sound like much. But just wait.
So just over two weeks after my encounter with the psychic whose powers I thought were an obvious hoax, I ended up bar hopping with some friends from work on the weekend. And as it happens, all of us lived around the same suburb so, logically, we started there. Given how much we drank, and how little of that was water, it’s probably surprising that I remember the evening at all. But some things even a totally drunken mind apparently can’t forget.
Anyway, around 4 AM, we finally decided to go home. And because the last bar we’d visited was about a half hours’ walking distance from my building, I decided to just make the trek rather than spring for an Uber or a Lyft. In retrospect, this was a horrible idea, but given that I was very drunk, that my neighborhood had a reputation for safety, and that the night was at just that perfect temperature you get midway between Summer and Fall, I like to think it was at least understandable. And perhaps I’d have got out of it unscathed had it not been for the particular route that Google Maps told me to take when getting home.
You can probably guess where that route went, and you’re right. Ten minutes or so after I’d started walking, I was instructed by my phone in the chipper Uncanny Valley-esque tones of my GPS to “turn right on Winston Drive.” Now, as I’ve said, the experience with Josie the Shitty Psychic was entirely forgettable, so normally, I would’ve done just that: forgotten it. But somehow, in that oppressive pre-dawn darkness, with a cool pre-autumn breeze blowing around my ankles, the eerie remembrance of her staring into my eyes and telling me to beware the man in the red brick house with the blue door on Winston Drive came flooding back.
If I’d been even slightly soberer, that memory would’ve spooked me. But, with Vodka/Red Bull number umpteen rushing through my veins, I just thought it was hilarious. The bitch had bilked me out of $30, after all. Fuck her! Here I was on the very street she had mentioned, and dammit, I was going to prove conclusively that one of her “predictions” had been a joke. And then I’d leave a Yelp review to prove it. Ha. Ha. Ha!
God, drunk me is stupid. Nevertheless, in that moment, it seemed like the best idea ever. All I had to do was find a red brick house with a blue door and survive the encounter, and the proof would be right there, plain as ink. So, with all the purpose that a drunk white girl can muster, I turned down Winston Drive and started walking straight down it. Or at least, it felt straight. I’m pretty sure in retrospect it was sinusoidal.
Anyway, I know you’re probably thinking that even given that I’d found Winston Drive, Josie’s clue wasn’t particularly helpful. After all, red brick houses with blue doors aren’t exactly rare architectural wonders. And you’d be right, except that somehow, when it came to this section of Winston Drive, they actually were. Oh, sure, most of the houses were red brick, but I guess most of the inhabitants of Winston Drive must’ve been too aware of how the colors would clash to paint their doors blue. White? Sure. Black? You bet. Grey? No doubt. But blue was nowhere to be seen.
That is, until I got within just a few blocks of where Google Maps was telling me to turn again, and there it was: a quaint looking little two story red brick house with a door painted a color that, even in the dim light of the street lamps, I could tell was a vivid shade of blue.
By this point, the alcohol had started to wear off slightly, so I’m glad to say I didn’t waltz up and ring the doorbell like an idiot, as I’d considered doing a few blocks and about two hundred weaving steps back. And no, I didn’t avoid this out of some sense of consideration for sleeping residents, because – and this should’ve been my first sign that something was wrong – the lights in the house were still on despite its being past 4 in the morning. In fact, even still being about 80% more drunk than I should’ve been, the sight of those lights still winking out of the windows in an entire blacked out street, combined with the now much more urgent seeming warning from Josie the Bad Psychic, suddenly made me very wary. In fact, while the wind had picked up and the night had begun to turn more chilly than pleasant as a result, I’m pretty sure the shudder that ran down my spine looking up at that house had nothing to do with the weather.
I was about to turn away and walk much more quickly away from the place when a sudden flurry of movement in one of the basement windows caught my eye. It was only a shadow, but to my eyes it had looked – somehow – like someone’s hand clawing at the glass from the inside. Now both genuinely creeped out and transfixed, I stared at the house for a good ten seconds, waiting to see if something else would happen.
It only took eight for the Thing to happen. With an audible smack, the unmistakable outline of a woman’s body emerged from behind the wall at the left side of the window, and began clawing at it, trying desperately to get it to move. The light was behind the woman, and I was standing a good 20 or so feet away, but what I could make out of her features at that distance was bone chilling. The most horrible, pleading expression of raw animal terror had twisted her face, and her eyes bulged like a deer when it’s trapped in the jaws of a wolf. For just a few seconds, she kept scratching and clawing at the window, trying to tear it upwards with effort that I sensed was probably breaking her fingernails.
Then, she saw me. And when she saw me, she screamed. Not that I could hear it, but the shape her mouth made forbade any other interpretation. And as she screamed, my brain, now suddenly feeling as stone cold sober as if I’d drunk an entire tank of coffee, registered that she was mouthing a word: “Help.” But she wasn’t able to get out many repetitions of the word before a huge, muscled hand appeared from the other side of the window and yanked her backwards from it by the hair.
At that moment, I made perhaps the worst decision of that night: I screamed, too. It was reflexive, and I clapped my hands over my mouth almost immediately after it happened, but the sound was so high and keening that anyone could’ve heard it. And someone did, because a fraction of a second later, the hulking outline of a man appeared at the window. He must’ve seen me, because he vanished only a moment later. I was still frozen in shock, and didn’t quite know what to do. Until I heard the sound of that blue door scraping outward, and saw the huge, beefy hand pushing it.
That snapped me out of my stupor immediately, and I ran. I ran desperately, like a hunted animal, not pausing to look back or listen. Worse than this was that I didn’t need to look back or listen. Within just a few seconds of my sprint, I heard the ragged, angry, grunting sounds of breath being drawn behind me, and the heavy footfalls of someone unimaginably bigger, stronger, and more malevolent than I could ever be implacably catching up. I quickened my pace and ran down any street I could, but it seemed to do no good. Slowly but surely, those feet seemed to only get desperately closer.
Then, a sweaty, grasping paw of a hand swiped my hair and I panicked. I screamed like a banshee, with a volume and pitch so high that it should’ve broken every window in every house around me. And even if that sound may or may not have reached the ears of the residents of those houses in time, it reached an audience far more attentive and in the moment, far more helpful. All at once, the silence of the entire neighborhood around me was shattered by the barking and howling of dogs, and with it, the blessed sight of lights in windows popping into life like Christmas lights draped across the sky. I heard the sound of swearing from a deep, oily, rasping voice, and suddenly the oppressive sense of proximity from the creature behind me, and the dreadful pursuing footfalls stopped. But I didn’t. I ran all the way home, and as soon as I’d slammed my apartment door shut and locked the door every way I could, I called the cops and told them what had happened and what I’d seen and experienced. To their credit, despite the early hour, they responded immediately.
I suppose you can guess at what they found in the red brick house with the blue door on Winston Drive: clothes, jewelry, and the bodies of numerous unfortunate women, as well as one terribly frightened, and horribly physically abused live woman. She told them that the man in the house had kept her captive and, between raping her, had branded her every night with an iron shaped like a sword. There were three such scars on her when they found her, but on each of the corpses, there was one consistent number: ten. Just like the card Josie had seen when she warned me about the man. And no, by the way, they haven’t found him yet, which is a fact that gives me nightmares more than anything else that has ever happened to me.
Now, you might think that this experience convinced me that Josie had a genuine gift, despite her apparent inability in most areas as a psychic. But it hasn’t, and it hasn’t because of a very simple fact.
You see, the driver’s license I’d shown Josie when I paid her with my credit card, while it was still current, had been issued a few years back. In fact, it had been issued when I lived in the same city, but at a different address. I mention this only because when the police called me in for questioning and I told them about what had happened with Josie, they asked to see my driver’s license as well. At first, I didn’t understand when the officer’s face went the color of stale oatmeal upon seeing it. But then, he told me the other thing that haunts me to this day: my address was the exact one that the girl they’d rescued was living at before she was kidnapped.
They haven’t found Josie yet either. But they raided her shop the next day, and found an entire ledger of stolen credit cards, driver’s licenses and social security numbers stashed in the very backroom where she’d done my readings. All were eventually traced to the victims discovered in the red brick house with the blue door on Winston Drive.
So now you understand why, despite what seems like clear evidence of a genuine psychic, I’m never going back to see any of the breed again. Because it’s true that not all psychics are frauds. But some are something much, much worse.
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delenagilbatoree-blog · 8 years ago
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Don't limit yourself to burning sage! Here's a list of alternative herbs to smudge 1. Burn cedar for decluttering. Burning cedar is a great way to smudge the air when you're in the midst of releasing some bad juju. For example, when you finally get rid of bad-memory outfits in your closet, burning cedar is a symbolic way to clear the space of their lingering energy. Likewise, if you buy antiques or vintage objects, you can wave cedar smoke over them to clear them of their previous owner's energies. 2. Burn yerba santa for loving vibes. Yerba santa has traditionally been burned to help heal broken hearts. The herb is also great to incorporate into your home-smudging ritual if you're just starting to practice more self-love and self-care. 3. Burn rosemary for new beginnings. Rosemary is often burned to create a "fresh start" in life. Whether it's breaking a habit, embarking on a new path, or opening up to more creativity, powerful and fragrant rosemary can help open doors to the new. 4. Burn mugwort for dreamy nights. Mugwort sounds a bit like something you'd read about in a fantasy novel, and its effects are equally fantastic! Burning mugwort in your bedroom is thought to enhance dreams, especially lucid, adventurous ones! 5. Burn juniper for comfort. Burn juniper if you're looking to feel more comfortable in your home. As its smoke flows through a space, it's thought to create a more sacred energy. 6. Burn resins for purification. Resins like frankincense and myrrh have been burned in purification rituals throughout history. The resin itself won't ignite easily, so to burn it, you'll need a charcoal puck to sit it on. To burn resins, light the edge of the charcoal puck with a long match or lighter and place it on a nonflammable surface, such as sand. Give it a minute to heat up, then sprinkle a small amount of resin on top. (Keep watch on this as it burns — the charcoal is fiery red hot.) The smoke of frankincense is thought to carry prayers to heaven in its smoke. It's also used to quiet a racing mind, making it useful for meditation. The incense may have health benefits as well, as the smoke it produces is antibacterial. Myrrh is used to still the mind and align the energy centers of the body, so it's also popular for burning before meditations. Like frankincense, it may also have medicinal effects. 7. Burn Palo Santo for prosperity. Palo Santo is a sacred wood that comes from the Palo Santo tree indigenous to the coast of South America. Shamans have traditionally used it to clear negative energy and increase love and prosperity. It burns fairly slowly, and its woodsy scent is rich and inviting. 8. Burn Tibetan Monastery Incense for clarity. Extracted from 38 Himalayan herbs, Tibetan Monastery is thought to deeply purify space as it burns. It creates more of a calm, clear, meditative sanctuary. 9. Burn sandalwood for grounding. Simple cones of sandalwood smell delightful as they burn and they fill the air with lots of grounding and centering aromatherapy. 10. Use Himalayan salt lamps. While you don't technically "burn" these lamps, you can use them to release negative ions into the air and create feelings of peace and prosperity. They are ideal for offices and homes where burning things is not an option, and they're gorgeous as they glow! 11. Oregano Fosters happiness, harmony, love, peace, protection, psychic development, growth, and tranquillity. Medicinally, it’s similarly been used for centuries. In traditional Chinese medicine and European folk medicine, it’s been useful to treat and prevent a variety of emotional and physical ailments. Practitioners of some forms of Stregheria brew an oregano tea and then use it to wash down the outer walls of homes, forming a protective barrier against negative energy Anything you do to clear space, even the simple act of opening a window, will bring more flow into your home and your life, aswell!
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buquinnnan-blog · 8 years ago
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Posts from the past: #8
From September 20, 2016
Where do I begin? The longer between these updates, the harder they are to write, so in the future my goal is just to shoot out little snippets of life here in Dingxi! I’ve been here for around a month now, and I’ve definitely settled into some sort of rhythm. However, this rhythm will definitely change as classes begin to pick up more and I get busier. Because I’m not really sure where to begin, and chronologically doesn’t make too much sense, I’ll just break my first month down into categories.
Apartment Living:
Despite Dingxi being one of the more rural sites in PC China, I’m lucky to have a very nice, modern apartment. It’s a bit cavernous to be honest and at the beginning it felt a little matrix-y with white walls, white tile floors, and little to no decoration. However it’s slowly becoming more lived in and now every time I open the door, the smells of incense and ginger have overtaken the original smells of fresh paint. My apartment is right next to the campus, but there a gate separating the two, so I need to take a little detour. Walking to class and the dining hall (where I eat around one meal a day) takes just under 10 minutes, so very doable. Keeping the apartment clean has been difficult with the sheer amount of dust in Dingxi. Opening the windows even for an afternoon makes it feel like I’m walking through a sandbox.
Food:
As I said in the previous section, I eat at the school cafeteria about once a day where I get a 6 kaui bowl of noodles or tray of rice with vegetables. Upon hearing that eat at the cafeteria, most the other teachers grimace and mention how bad the food is. To be honest, its not prime quality, but I’m not a picky eater and by eating at the cafeteria I get to see more students, so it’s worth it to me. Also 6 kuai for a meal, that’s less than a one US dollar- a steal in my books.
As for my other meals, I tend to cook in the apartment. Often times it consists of rice any sort of steamed or sautéed veggies or tofu. I’m not quite brave enough to handle the meat here yet, but small steps. I often accompany these meals with a variety of completely random spices and mixes. While my Chinese has improved a bit, I still have little to no knowledge of characters, which make every spice/sauce buy at the market a bit of an adventure.
Sometimes, I’ll go out to a restaurant, but due to costs and embarrassment, I save those times for special occasions. Embarrassment, you ask? Well, because I can’t read characters, I often find myself asking restaurant owners if they have random dishes that have planted themselves in my brain. Or they’ll ask me questions that I don’t understand and in the process of trying to comprehend each other, we normally get the attention of the entire restaurant who will stare down the whole transaction. But normally these moments (ie. the time when I unknowingly kept repeating “I want casserole” in a restaurant that only served casserole while the waiter just wanted to know which type I wanted), turn out to be worth it- I ended up getting mad good casserole.
Work:
And I’m obviously not in Dingxi to just sit around my apartment and sometimes go out to eat. This semester I’m teaching 8 classes with around 12 teaching hours a week. Most of these courses are non-English Major listening courses, which means for the most part that my students’ levels are quite low. However, they’re all still very nice, excited to get to know me, and want to improve their English, which is all I can ask for (and more, really). One class invited me to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival by going to their class talent show. I showed up and was treated to as many moon cakes, bananas, and oranges as I wanted (plus some tasty green tea-flavored sunflower seeds). Of course, I should have expected this wouldn’t be a completely invite as towards the end of a 2.5 hour show, they all turned to me expecting a song from me. Though I rarely do any sort of singing, I figured I shouldn’t be the downer to refuse (especially after they were all so kind), so I found a song on a student’s karaoke phone app and sang for a few minutes. I have yet to see any photos on QQ (Chinese social media), but with amount of cameras on me I’m sure they’re floating out there somewhere.
I also teach two classes on Classical Readings for English Majors, a survey course of famous literary passages. I really enjoy the class, though the textbook we use may be a bit too difficult for the students. The students in the sophomore class I teach are all great and have been a lot of fun to work with. There’s a group of them who are really excited to meet me and practice English, so I see them outside of class a bit. One them, named Poison, had her birthday on Mid-Autumn Festival so she invited me out to a 9 hour eating expedition which included two-restaurants and then back to her apartment to make dumplings (during the week students need to stay in the dormitory on campus, but many students will rent off-campus apartments for the weekends. They’re pretty bare bones places, most often a single room in building with many other students). Overall, it was great day with lots of food and, of course, photos.
Free time:
When I am free, I’ve been keeping myself occupied doing different things in the apartment or around Dingxi. Towards the beginning of my time here I was hiking around the campus a fair bit. The campus is at the foot of a few small mountains/big hills where, at the summit, you have a beautiful view of the surrounding area. In the past couple weeks the amount of hiking gone down a bit, but I’m panning on picking it back up soon.
In the apartment, I spend a lot of time reading. Really, I’ve done more reading here than I’ve done in a long time. Among the books I’m reading now is Ulysses, which I’m reading along with a few PC buddies in other provinces as a way to keep in touch. I was a big critic of e-readers and Kindles, but considering I never would have been able to bring so many books with me to China, I admit they have some use.
Finally, I joined a gym last week (one of two in Dingxi). I wasn’t really planning on it, but I figured it could be a good way to meet friends. While it’s a bit early to tell, I think that suspicion was right. I’ve already traded numbers with a few people there and they seem really excited to get to know. If you would have told me two years ago that I’d find myself surrounded by massive Chinese men in a gym that blast Ke$ha in the middle of Western China, I’d have looked at you like you were crazy, but alas, here I am…
——————
So that’s all about all I have for y’all. Obviously much more is going on, and if I can get more frequent updates going, I’ll hopefully give a bit more insight into the daily occurrences of my time in Dingxi. Until next time!
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