#and the fact that its Also simultaneously a curse as well as a cure.. the one thing both damning but also maintaining your life

[dreampearls]

baizhus story quest was cool hu tao & xiao were the highlights for me :-] obsessed w the continual association of snake imagery tied to the god remains/archon residue & changsheng as a foil to that

[reidecorating]

L'amore Vero È Così (True Love is Like This)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader  

A/N: Woke up with a killer headache after celebrating the end of 2020 and thought writing something loosely based off events that took place on NYE would be a good cure. Hope this year’s been treating you all well!

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Summer nights and Spencer Reid make it hard for anyone to keep their hands to themselves. Add David Rossi’s holiday mansion and wine to the mix, and watch a dangerously hot fuse ignite

Warnings: Language (as in cursing AND me just completely butchering Italian), unprotected sex, penetrative sex

Masterlist

Maybe it was the Sauternes. Like a spark igniting along the fuse of dynamite, the sweet sting of white grape travelled down her throat, every sip exploding in kaleidoscopic vision and unfiltered words. Even so, it wasn’t the alcohol she was drunk on. No, not drunk - she wasn’t drunk - she was absolutely intoxicated. Not by anything of substance, but by an overwhelming desire for the man she had arrived with. 

Spencer Reid often felt out of place standing in any absurdly large entranceway, belonging to the old Italian with new money, recurrently settling for shifting from shoe to shoe, before taking a deep breath and pressing the doorbell with the hand unoccupied by a bottle he wouldn’t be drinking from. However, his sobriety was far from the cause of his imposter syndrome. Rather, it was the way he always arrived alone, while, what felt like, the rest of the team trickled in with their spouses or significant others. Whilst pairs would dance to vinyl sounds of Bowie, leaving little room for him and the odd number his presence formed in the abacus of the group, he would loiter in a corner, or, on occasion, entertain his godson with a pack of cards. More frequently, he would rattle off excuses about needing the restroom, only to spend his time exploring the corridors of a rather impressive house. A get together at David Rossi’s holiday home was uncommon, and the last time Spencer had wound up here, he found himself inspecting the tiny forgotten library the man housed, attempting to decipher the various foreign books residing on its mahogany shelves as he heard his friends stumbling their way through the Salsa downstairs. L'isola di Arturo, with sterling lettering on its ageing spine showing a familiar pen name, had quickly become his favourite. When he’d first translated the pages, he had chuckled at the parallels between himself and its disconsolate protagonist. However, after years of his ongoing solitude, and lonely arrivals to a castle full of people, he finally had someone on his arm. 

“Wait, what does this mean? I can make out the ‘amore’ but not much else,” That someone now squinted at the words his index finger underlined as he read her the words of that very book, aloud. “Hm?” He was visibly distracted by the Patchouli blend of orange and jasmine emanating from her skin as she leaned against his shoulder to read the page herself. “L'amore vero è così,” she whispered, unsure of the correct pronunciation but attempting it anyway. “Non ha nessuno scopo e nessuna ragione, e non si sottomette a nessun potere fuorché alla grazia umana,” she finished in a whisper, affecting Spencer in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Through fluttering eyelashes, she looked up at him, awaiting his rendition, and suddenly the temperature felt as if it had risen. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been here almost as many times as him; she knew her way around Rossi’s holiday home, but Spencer had insisted on showing her his favourite room, claiming she hadn’t seen it yet. Diverting her attention from Emily’s anecdotes, “I kind of want you all to myself for a little bit,” he whispered in a kiss on her shoulder, proceeding to take her hand and pull her away from chatter over a jug of Cuban rum and homemade pizza - making sure to dissect, in explanation, nearly every painting adorning the maze of hallways on their short trek. He cleared his throat, prying his gaze away from the skin her little black dress revealed, unabashedly scanning her lips before using his own to form words. “True love is like this,” he subtly eyed her reaction to his words as he tried hard to not transliterate the European language. “It has no purpose and no reason, and it does not submit to any power except human grace.” Spencer’s voice was a newly inked quill, ebbing and flowing through the hot air of the dimly lit room. The dark winged butterflies that had been floating around her stomach all evening fluttered in a frenzy at his words, and the way the chartreuse of his eyes had been absorbed by black as they laid on her. “For such a dark story, it’s so beautiful,” she exhaled in a hushed tone, stare not leaving his as he slowly slid the book into the hollow slot where it had previously inhabited, too occupied by reading her demeanour to pay the book any more attention. “You think so? The author, Morante, Elsa Morante, was actually considered the greatest writer of Italy’s postwar generation, at one point.” Spencer began to rest his weight against the wall as they conversed. “I feel as if we always hear about Bassani or Parise, and all the unorthodox things Landolfi wrote in the fifties. It’s very refreshing to hear of a woman getting some well deserved recognition in such a male dominated niche,” she remarked. A dimple appeared on Spencer’s cheek as he grinned at the way she sounded a lot like him. “Agreed. In fact, Morante actually claimed she wished she’d been born a boy, so that she could have all of these heroic adventures. Once, when she was asked about the hero of that book,” he pointed towards the worn copy of L'isola di Arturo, “she commented: ‘Arturo, c’est moi!’,” 

“Living vicariously through him? Interesting,” she tilted her head slightly, “I also think its remarkable how beauty can emerge from so much pain,” she mulled aloud. His eyebrows raised at her words and the flux in her tone of voice. Slowly, she stepped towards him, forearms resting on his shoulders, entangling behind him. 

Earlier, she’d had the privilege of styling him as he stood in front of their shared mirror, muttering complaints of how he had 'nothing to wear’. Now, she repeated maledictions to herself regarding the clothing she had chosen, in her head, as she admired the way his black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves - displaying intricate nerves shadowing his fingers and arms - and simultaneously unbuttoned temptingly low on his chest, exposing the silver chain presenting a small initial, hers. The summer night had made sure a thin veil of sweat coated his collarbones, glistening with his movements under the lamp light. “It’s not a surprising process though - I mean, after the year you’ve had, just look at how pretty you are,”

“Did you just-” he gulped, chuckling, “use the copious amounts of semi-resolved trauma I harbour to romance me?”

“I may have,” she whispered into the skin below his ear, both hands now tangled in his hair as he remained pressed up against the wall, grateful that every wound, fight and flaw had led them here. And she never ceased to make her gratitude known. Tonight, though, ever since she’d caught sight of his hand gripping a cold glass, the strong concoction presumably belonging to Luke, she hadn’t been able to stop envisioning his body on top of hers. Unbeknownst to her, his thoughts had been very similar from the second she’d chosen to wear the satin fabric, claiming it matched his shirt, while leaving very little to the imagination. “Y/N,” he spoke, his body involuntarily leaning into hers. “We can’t- Not now.” His body language betrayed his words. “I don’t study behaviour for a living, unlike everyone else here, but Spencer, right now, yours tells me we can,” she brought down a hand to squeeze his wrist, which was resting against her lower back. He couldn’t breathe. Tongue in cheek, he shook his head at her, a smirk breaking way. “You, my pretty lady, are something else,” he caved, switching their position in a more urgent manoeuvre than either of them anticipated. Spencer’s hands grasped her jaw, his breath fanning over her before his lips collided with hers, messily. A hand cradled the back of her head, heeding any impact with the wooden blockade behind her, fingers and hair tangling together. Her hands travelled along his body, pinky tugging on his necklace in pursuit of closeness, while her lips roamed around his bobbing Adam’s apple, eliciting an exquisite string of moans. Spencer’s leg wedged itself between hers, slowly grazing his thigh against her, using a firm grip to guide her hips downwards, her soft sighs and tugs at his roots only encouraging him. 

The euphoria was short lived. A rapping on the library door tore them apart, its hinges creaking and giving way to an astounded looking Penelope Garcia. “Naughty!” she factitiously gasped. “I didn’t think the good doctor and his fine missus had it in them, but I was very, very wrong,”

“We were just-“ Y/N began, only to be cut off by the tipsy agent. “Save the excuses, beautiful lady. I was simply quested to find you two, and let you know that the rest of us are off to take a dip in the spa. Bring your boy toy, and scrumptious self, and join us ASAP - oh! And no funny business! There are children here,” Penelope gestured her two fingers away from her spectacles and towards each of them as a silent threat of ‘I’m watching you’. Y/N and Spencer exchanged a look, both flushed in different shades of red, on their way to creating a colour wheel. As Penelope spun on her heels and rushed to shut the door behind her, “Thank you, Penelope!” Y/N squeaked, Spencer exclaiming a timid “And sorry!” The two of them broke out into a fit of laughter, still frazzled. “I think I’m getting a little too comfortable with your team,” she grimaced, earning a laugh from the doctor. Later, as Spencer led her towards a bathroom, her arms occupied by a stack of towels, his hand on the small of her back, he dreaded the amount of self control he would need to invoke when the two of them would undress to change. 

What she had said wasn’t entirely untrue. She was indeed very comfortable with his team. If Spencer could have met himself, a year ago, anxious to introduce who he was sure was the love of his life to his dearest friends, he would flick himself in the head. She, not alarmingly, managed to get along with everyone, almost better than he did. Somehow managing to find common ground, even with Aaron Hotchner. He recalls, one night, months ago, listening to her and the usually stoic man debate about which broadway production was better: The Producers or The Phantom of the Opera. Spencer also recalls exactly how riled up he became as he watched her put the ex-theatric-gone-lawyer in his place after calling upon Spencer for some Tony Award statistics. Admittedly, he actively needed to combat the green eyed monster on his back whenever she would go jogging with Luke - but the way she kissed him before leaving, on her tiptoes in her running shoes, whispering ‘I love you’, and ‘I’m really only going for Roxy’, helped. She had become family, the invisible stamp of approval having been silently awarded when they all saw the looks the two of them shared, the three subtle squeezes in their woven hands, and the way Spencer now smiled with his teeth - the way they way they would move the moon and the earth for one another. 

Packed into the watery sauna, words exchanged between the group travelled into the atmosphere, a waxing gibbous eavesdropping overhead. She watched as Spencer squirmed across from her at the nearness to so many sweaty bodies, shoulders, elbows, knees and toes, belonging to anybody and everybody, poking him. Her eyes trailed along the dips and swells at the base of his neck, decorated in its usual, dainty, shimmering pendant, the bones there protruding as he slouched forward. Spencer’s hair was matted, condensation ironing chestnut ringlets to his forehead, complimenting his heated crimson cheeks. The butterflies returned, her stomach flipping as he ran his hand through the mop of curls to ease his discomfort. More of him - that was what she wanted. She hadn’t noticed, but she had been biting her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Pulling her back from her thoughts, a heavy exhale travelled past her left ear, changing the course of the steam emerging from the water - a stream of air enough to deflate a person, she noticed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.” The blonde rested her head against the barrier of the tub, seeing bright patterns on her eyelids as they shut over her eyes momentarily. Y/N reached over and grasped one of her shoulders in a clinical manner. “Who are you, and what have you done with Jennifer and the gruelling tension in her neck and jaw?” She interrogated, lightheartedly. “What can I say? Stress is my middle name,” she chuckled. “While we’re on the topic, though... Maybe you could give me one of those trigger-point massages,” she opened one eye, an iris burning sapphire, the blue only rival to that of the one from The Tell Tale Heart, finding Y/N’s face. Retreating her hand, having made her point, she let out a laugh at JJ’s words, “I’m afraid that’ll cost y-” Y/N’s eyes widened at the familiar dialect of the words, a charlatan on JJ’s tongue. “Wait a minute, can you repeat what you just said, but slowly?” 

“Oh, I know you heard me perfectly clear,” JJ smirked at her, eyebrows raising as her eyes shifted between the flustered woman and Spencer. 

They had a friendship of unfamiliar closeness, which JJ cherished. After nights of babysitting turning into wining with Merlot and dining on flaming dreaded cheese puffs, stashed away in an airtight container, upon JJ’s arrival home, the two had grown close. The agent was grateful for conversation veering away from work, and for someone seeing her from a different lens; one through which she wasn’t fizzled down to a petrie dish of a mother through a workaholic microscope. Y/N was curious to know how her famous mandatory-Spencer-de-stressing-trigger-point massages had come up in conversation between JJ and her, now guilty looking, boyfriend. She crossed her fingers in hopes that he’d spared the details of the events that usually took place following the neck rubs - another kind of de-stressing altogether. “Do you guys hear that? I think Will’s calling me- and I should go put Henry to bed… It’s quite late…” she exaggerated, wearing a redolent expression as she slunk away with a towel around her cold frame. “We’ll talk later, Jareau,” she looked up at JJ, after the shivering woman squeezed her shoulders in a bid goodnight, waving to the small crowd. Swiftly, Y/N’s gaze met Spencer’s, her figure not having left his vision once. 

The yard and small pool was clearing out, save for Luke and Tara bickering in the corner, so, through the bubbling water, she waded in Spencer’s direction, noticing the way he was evidently mentally undressing her. As if by his telepathy, a thin strap of her bathing suit slipped from its place, causing the gears in Spencer’s head to stop turning as he swallowed thickly. “Hey handsome, long time no speak.” A soft smile graced his lips, adoration for her evident, in place of his muted response. Wordlessly, he slipped a finger beneath the strap, tentatively putting it back in place, refusing to break eye contact in some unspoken play for power. “What’re you up to?” She squinted, wondering exactly what his motives were. “Nothing much,” he pulled her closer by the waist, whispering in a gravelly voice only she could hear, “I’m just thinking about how you didn’t get the chance to finish what you started, earlier,”

“Are you implying that you want me to…” she floated onto his lap, hands draping around his neck to steady herself, “pick up where we left off?” The question left her mouth in a breathy whisper, straight into his ear. He turned to look at her, unblinking. “I’m implying, that I’ve had those pretty noises you make replaying in my head all night, and that I’d like to hear them again,”

“Remind me, doctor, which one of us said ‘we can’t’?,” she mocked his whine, rolling her eyes back. “I have a better suggestion, how about you remind me which one of us struggled to stand the last time we played this game?” The calmness of his voice was the antithesis of the fire she was feeling inside her. Satisfied with her speechlessness, his eyes drifted down her body as she pried herself off him, settling in the plastic indent of a hot tub seat to his side. The attention of the pair of lovers were drawn to Tara’s laughter as she stepped into a robe, calling it a night. “What’d we miss?” Spencer’s clueless innocence returned, as if the words he’d spoken before were now out of mind. Devilishly, Tara responded, “Oh, you know, just me completely destroying this man’s ego,”

“Doesn’t take much does it?” Y/N offered Tara her fist in solidarity. “No it does not,” Tara chuckled, bumping it with her own. “You guys do realise that I’m right here?” Luke scoffed, also drying himself off. “I think that adds to their point?” Spencer offered, pursing his lips, amused. “Well, I’m going to go and catch some sleep, and maybe even shed a few tears over what’s been said about me,” he playfully scowled at Tara walking away, throwing a middle finger at him through the air without looking back. “Trust me, they are very professional,” Spencer promised, turning towards his only remaining company in laughter. “I’m sure they are,” she joked returning a smile. 

The two of them talked beneath an ink sky, stars like pinpricks in a blanket twinkling through their conversation, until she found herself on Spencer’s lap, once again, the ambience shifting to something far more carnal. Throughout the night, like a band of elastic stretching between two fingers, the tension between them had heightened. Now, they both tested the limits, anticipating its snap. His chlorine skin tasted electric on her tongue as she painted his neck and chest with a lilac rendition of the silver initial dangling there, letting his sighs catch in the shells of her ears. Allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, his hands tightened around her waist. “Mhm, no, Y/N,” he spoke, regaining his fleeting conscience. “This,” — kiss — “is a bad,” — kiss — “idea,”

“Spencer, look,” she glanced over at the house, and his eyes followed suite, craning his neck slightly. “What do you see?” She asked. “Aside from a house bigger than my entire apartment complex?” Her face was a deadpan. “All the lights are out, Spencer,” she gave him a look that said, come on, profiler, figure it out. Not a single connection formed in his head as he stared at the way the luminous blue of the night time water cast ripples on her skin - skin which was all over his. “All the lights are out… It’s late… and everyone’s asleep,” he reasoned, more to himself than in response to her insinuation. “We have no real chance of getting caught, plus…” her dark eyes were obscured by the eyelashes sheltering them as she tilted her head. “Would it be so bad if we did?” Two of her fingers danced along his chest, walking towards the damp hair at the nape of his neck, using the strands to pull him closer. “Everyone knowing exactly how good you make me feel?” She purred the last part in his ear, tugging at the cartilage with her teeth. Spencer partially whimpered. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous boy. You sound as good as you taste.” His eyes shut as his head hit the rim of the spa - only briefly losing himself once her mouth was on him again. “Someone’s talking like they’re in charge,” he tilted her chin up towards him, forcing her eyes onto his own. “I seem to be the one doing all the work here,” she teased. He kissed each of her collarbones, eyes still trained on hers. “You shouldn’t speak so soon.” With that, he undid the top of her swim suit, exposing her chest to the frigid night air, compelling a gasp. “Truthfully, I’ve been thinking about doing this a majority of the night.” The bass in his voice reached her core. “For someone who is so fastidious about cleanliness, you sure have a dirty, dirty mind, doct-” She never had the chance to finish the honorific, his lips moulding around a hardening nipple, allowing his fingers to toy with the other. Rolling his tongue around the bud, he smiled to himself as he heard her call out his name, over and over, as if her voice was coming through a scratched vinyl. “Where’s all the talk from before?”

“You’re evil,” she groaned, her hips bucking against his board short clad body. 

Spencers lips travelled along the valley of her breasts, only to hike back up them at a tantalising pace, prehensile fingers covering the ground his mouth couldn’t. Her hands grasped so tight in his hair, he was sure the strands would fall out. A groan of his own left vibrations reverberating through her body, causing her heart to jump. “Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he gnarred, as his hands gripped her wrists, holding them behind her back. With his unoccupied hand, he dipped his fingers into what was left of her apparel. “Is this all for me?” He smirked at the ease with which his fingers slipped over her. “Don’t flatter yourself, we’re in water,”

“You’re so impolite - even when I’m spoiling you,” tutted Spencer. Retroceding his hand, determined to leave her on edge, and her skin a mirror image of his, he continued to pin her fragile hands back against the base of her spine. “S-Spencer, please,” her words struggled to make any sense, “please, I need more,” she panted out, moving purposefully along the growing outline in his shorts. The pleasure was overwhelming. Spencer fiddled with the material still covering her, pulling it aside to make way for himself in between her legs. His eyes softened, silently seeking permission, even as she impatiently pulled down his waistband. When she nodded and eased his ailing with a soft, lingering kiss, he slowly pushed himself into her, never failing to be acutely attentive to her comfort as if it was their first time together. “This was what you were after?” Teased Spencer, his hips speeding up. “So badly,” she uttered out a sigh. “Then take it like you want it.” She craved his adept touch, and she made that known. “S- Spencer, oh god,” she groaned, “you feel so fucking good.” His breathing became heavier, softs grunts and hisses filling her ears with every movement. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, whining in a destitute way at the full feeling. At a slower pace, one of Spencer’s hands guided her hips along himself, while the other traced infinity on her sensitive nerves. “Sweet girl- fuck, you feel like a dream,” he moaned as she tightened around him. Her toes curled, the warm water of the pool splashing her bare skin. Spencer occupied all of her senses, the same way she did his. “I’m so close,” she whimpered, before he used his nose to nudge her face upwards, her momentarily open eyes reflecting constellations. Spencer kissed her once more. Her hands long freed from his grip, she left traces of herself in the form of tiny red sickles on his freckled back as her nails released some frustration. 

Dragging her fingers along his torso, she felt the muscles of his stomach tighten, hers doing the same. Shaky sighs wavered from her lips at the bliss Spencer was providing. “Keep your eyes open for me, angel,” she tried her hardest to focus on his lustfully blown pupils. “That’s it. Just look at what you do to me,” he gasped out, head falling backwards, eye contact broken - only for a second - before he gulped and looked back at her. “You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, hoarsely, stroking his sweaty cheekbone with her thumb.  She could recognise the golden gates of heaven in his eyes as he came undone inside her, warmth spilling over her in every aspect. The knots in her stomach loosened shortly after his, curses spilling from both of them. She rode him through his release, fond of the way he left light kisses on her temple, whispering compliments and confessions of love. Once he was sure she’d caught her breath, and some air had returned to his own lungs, he kissed her, gently, in the summer sauna heat, beneath the stars.

A loud cough startled the two. Stood in the open French doors of the veranda, scotch in hand, and eyes screwed shut, was David Rossi. Their minds were in the same place, wondering why they hadn't listened to Penelope’s drunken advice. “When you two are done, please remember to turn the tub lights off - and put the filter on high.” She hid herself in Spencer’s chest, heartbeat in her ears, contemplating holding her breath for a really, really long time. Spencer was flushed red, his own nose buried in her neck so as to not face the older man. “Or better yet, put some money together to buy me an entirely new spa,” Rossi, laughed, opening one eye to catch sight of Spencer giving him a shameful thumbs up. Even as Rossi wandered away, their embarrassment remained a fresh burn. Spencer groaned as her tired hand fumbled with his disastrous hair, “I don’t even want to begin thinking about how much of that he heard,”

“Or saw,”

“Don’t!”

“I’m never going to be invited here ever again, am I?”

[dimension-after-dark]

Belphagor and his regrets

This could be considered a sequel to my other drabble

It has all of the same warnings which I will list here once more as a precaution.

Tw: Graphic Hanahaki, flowers growing from the body, and major character death.

Belphagor was having trouble sleeping strangely enough, his chest was hurting. It wasnt like anything hed ever felt but he wasnt too worried, he is a powerful demon lord after all. But that didn't help the fact that he couldn't sleep nor did it stop the pain.

He was starting to wonder if he should try to find the exchange student, they made it much easier to sleep. As he lay there thinking about the exchange student and just how good they were at cuddling, his chest started hurting more.

He started to cough and cough, a small petal tinged with his blood can out of his mouth. It was white and he didnt recognise the flower it came from. He hadnt ate anything with flowers in it nor were there white flowers in the garden that he could have ended up breathing in his sleep.

Just as Belphie threw away the petal Beel walked in, he was worried since he felt belphies pain through their bond. "Belphie?"

"I'm ok Beel, just coughed a bit."

"I smell your blood so don't lie to me belphie."

"I coughed up a flower petal, other than that Im fine."

"Thats bad Belphie, we should ask Lucifer about it."

"No I will not ask him anything! If you want me to ask someone I will ask Satan, he has a lot of books anyways. I can just say I thought I heard someone talking about it." Beel acquiesces because he trusts his brother to take care of himself, he should not have but he did.

After a bit longer of trying and failing to fall asleep belphie got up and went to Satan's room. After knocking on the door, "Come in, unless your Lucifer."

"I couldnt be further from that asshole, I just had a question is all." He says as he walks into his simultaneously older and younger brothers room.

Satan is standing in the middle of a large pile of books looking for one of them, "What is your question? Im looking for a volume of curses to use on Lucifer."

"Have you ever heard of coughing up flower petals?"

"Why? What do you mean by coughing up flowers? The only thing that comes to mind would be the hanahaki disease but that only happens to someone suffering from unrequited love."

"That sounds stupid, how do you cure it? It cant be that hard right, it sounds like something from one of Levis animes."

"Its very real and there are two ways to cure it, a confession with the feelings requited or a surgery removing the feelings. The surgery usually removes all feelings and sometimes even memories of the person in question, that is of course if it doesnt kill you."

"Thanks Satan, I'll leave you too it here. I need a nap."

"You should know that the sooner you get the surgery the better, also confessing is always the better option."

"I don't love anyone like that Satan, you mean romantic love don't you?"

"The most common cases are romantic but platonic and familial are also possibilities, albiet much more rare and often harder to cure."

"Well I'm off too nap now, I don't feel any unrequited love so stop worrying about it." And with that Belphie leaves a worried Satan in his room.

" I don't love anyone new do I?" The only person to come to his mind was the exchange student but he couldnt love them, he killed them after all.

But that didnt stop the coughing fit that started as the random though of kissing them popped into his head. Another petal white as his wings used to be, covered in his blood a dark color next to the pure white.

There were more petals coming out and so Belphagor retreated to the attic for privacy as he thought about his feelings. He knew a confession would probably end in him being rejected, who could love their murderer after all?

Laying the attic bed bloody lips and petals all around him he heard someone climbing the stairs. It was the exchange student, based on the footsteps and the fact that he could hear them calling his name as they climbed the stairs.

The petals were hidden before the human could make it up and Belphie knew what they were now. Crocus one of the first flowers of springtime, the humans decided that it meant a lot of things but it amounted to general positivity and happiness. Just like what being around the exchange student made him feel like, too bad he knew they wouldn't be able to love him back.

"Hey Belphie, I heard you didn't feel too good. Do you want to cuddle?" Always so kind, before it had been their downfall. The reason that they died, yet they won't even avoid their murderer like a wise person would have.

"Belphie can you hear me?" Right they are here and waiting for him to respond.

"No I don't feel like cuddling right now, don't worry about me ok?" They dont look convinced at all, but they get called away by Mammon anyways.

The coughs he had been holding in were coming at full force now, more and more petals were covered in more and more blood too. The handfuls of petals quickly turned to full flowers and he felt the bits of stems in his chest starting to grow out of his body. It hurt but his throat was too raw to scream.

Beel ran in and screamed in the pain Belphie was feeling, the stems burst forth from his torso with a spray of blood. The crocuses in his torso began to bloom as well, Beel had started crying at some point.

It hurt and Belphie couldn't do anything about it at this point, he was dying. He knew Beel could feel all of the pain but he couldn't stop and he couldn't confess because he couldn't talk anymore.

As he breathed his last breath Beel right at his side the flowers covering his entire torso and starting to grow out of his eyes. When the exchange student got a frantic call from beel about belphie being dead and it being hanahaki, they rushed back.

"Belphie you idiot I did like you, why didnt you say that you liked me? Why did you have to die like this?" Then they began to cough as well, striped anemones meaning hopeless love.

[darkmindsotome]

Two Cups and a Cure

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC

Word count: 4,296

Warning: soft/ very light angst quickly turning to fluff with a dash of spice at the end.

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @cinnatwisted​ for this commissioned piece.

Summary: Creative block. We all get it from time to time and a suggestion turns into a sort of date. There will be teasing, there will be blushing but as always there is love.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist 

---

Two Cups and a Cure

The sound of pen on paper as it scratched out markings on the manuscript filled his room. The black ink rhythmically plotting its way through a song that was currently only heard in the head of the man composing it.

A loud noise preceded the muffled yet audibly far to clear chatter through his door. His creativity stalled while simultaneously his hand involuntarily jarred. Violet eyes watched in horror as the ink from his pen ran in a meaningless stroke destroying his perfect score.

He growled in frustration, crumpling the paper in his fist as he bounded from his desk and out into the hallway. His eyes fell on the two people at the root of this recent interruption and it was not a sight that induced a calming influence on his mind.

“Why is it so loud out here? It’s like you all have an affliction in this building that prevents you from remaining silent.” His voice resounded with a fury that caused the now still figures of Mc and Arthur to flinch. “Can you or can you not understand what it means to maintain piano-forte or must I forever be cursed by your deafening crescendo?”

“Now, now, Wolfie. No need to be so angry. I was just having a little fun with Mc here. You should hire her for your next Opera. Did you know she could reach such a high note?” Arthur recovered much faster than Mc, the teasing lilt to his voice grated on his nerves like an untuned violin.

“Arthur…” Mc looked between the two men for a second, trying to prevent incurring further animosity. She was also trying to free her hand from Arthur who stubbornly refused to loosen his grip.

“I don’t hire amateurs. I also don’t care what you are doing just take it somewhere else.” He scoffed a deep frown etched into his brow. He was aware of his words being more barbed than usual, it still shocked him how sharing his life with another had caused him to notice such things.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I borrow her for a little game then?” Arthur made a show of getting closer to Mc. Drawing her to him by the hand he refused to part with. Violet eyes lingered on the connection between Arthur and Mc mentally taking note of every part touched.

“What?” His voice had lost some of its volume but none of its venom. Arthur almost looked as if he were going to wrap himself around her in public. It was enough to make his blood boil at the thought both in terms of jealousy and envy. How could he be so brazen?

“You’ve been so focused on your composing dear boy you’ve left your love completely unattended. It would be only natural should she find another.” Arthur’s words stung and were also little more than stirring the pot. It was all to clear that he was relishing the torment he was causing inside an already troubled mind.

“Preposterous! Mc isn’t like the women you fool around with.” Firmly denying the assumption he flicked his violet eyes towards Mc as if looking for confirmation.

He found it, those beautiful eyes were looking only at him. The way she held his gaze told him everything he needed to know. She had never failed to meet him head-on no matter his mood. He knew this and yet it did little to prevent the thoughts swirling in my mind of the possibility that Arthur may have a point.

In truth, he wanted to treat her kindly and spoil her. It was a genuine wish and one he had voiced before. He hated his current mood with a passion for how it caused his mouth to run without regard to her.

“No, she isn’t, is she? Still, even the purest of heart can be forgiven for having a wandering eye when mistreated.” Arthur and his blasted observational skills managed to put a voice to the budding insecurity in the composer’s mind. There was a playful smile on his face as if this were nothing but a very entertaining game to him before shrugging and straightening out his collar. “I should be running along though I promised a rather fine filly I would join them for a jaunt around town, cheerio!”

“Erm Mozart? He didn’t mean anything by all that… I’m sure.” Mc’s slightly timid voice confirmed his fear that he had been excessively harsh. If he hurt Arthur he didn’t care, but her? That idea was a pain that surpassed the torment and frustration plaguing him.

“It is of no concern of mine what he or anyone else thinks.” He looked in the direction Arthur had left before drawing closer and busying himself with a handkerchief to wipe the hand that Arthur had been holding. He meant what he said the opinions of others meant little as there was only one opinion that mattered to him now. “What do you think?”

There was a tenderness in her eyes as she watched him diligently cleanse her. The faint smile on her lips calmed him. She should always be smiling.

“I think you have been working very hard recently and very focused.” Mc spoke softly turning her hand in his and threading her fingers with his own. “No matter how much time I see you spending on work though I only ever see the torn-up paper. If you’re struggling then I’d like to help.”

“Help? How would you help?” He wanted to ridicule her for her offer but found his words had deserted him under her clear gaze.

“Look I get you are frustrated but that is no need to take that tone with me.” She frowned and took on a more determined manner. “I’m worried about you not just as your lover but your friend too. I used to get writer’s block as well.”

“Writer’s block?” His pale features became dusted with pink. How could she say something so embarrassingly sweet with such a straight face? He felt warmth rush through him from where their hands were connected and broke the connection in an effort to rid himself of these bothersome feelings.

“It’s a thing you get when trying to work. It's like an invisible barrier in your head that prevents you from completing a task. Prevents you from doing what you would do normally or want to do. It is very frustrating but unless you acknowledge it you will just be hitting your head off a brick wall.” Mc continued without pointing out his change of appearance.

“Who would do such a thing?” He felt a little horrified by the idea that his love had suffered as he was and taken to such extreme measures to overcome them.

“It’s an expression, like... trying to get blood out of a stone.” Mc giggled like a tinkling bell realising he had taken her words literally instead of figuratively.

“Pointless…” Again, he felt a rush of embarrassment hit him but it was from his own lack of understanding this time. 

“Exactly. It’s a futile action that isn’t going to change just because you pushed on with more determination. If anything, you will get more frustrated, angrier and become exhausted.” Mc straightened her posture and outlined everything he was currently feeling with finely tuned precision.

“So, what did you do when you had this writer’s block?” His mood hadn’t exactly improved but he felt a lot calmer now.

“Change of scenery. I’d go out, walk around with no particular place in mind and sometimes that was all it took.”

“Sometimes? That doesn’t sound at all convincing.” This was hardly the first time he had suffered such a creative barrier but it felt better somehow to know that at least this time he was not alone.

“Well I’m not saying getting some air and going for a walk is a cure-all for it every time but it doesn’t hurt to try.” Mc gave a small shrug.

He had been holed up in his music room and his bedroom for days. It wasn’t that he was trying to ignore her but he knew he had been. Her hair looked different, the colour of her skin, the scent flowing from her was all just a little changed from their last private time spent together.

“One hour” The words were out before he knew it.

“Pardon?” Her wide-eyed look nearly made him laugh. She's always so expressive.

“Meet me in front of the mansion in one hour.” He didn’t wait for a response and just returned to his room to prepare to leave. She had possibly meant for him to go out alone but he couldn’t deny how he felt after being reminded of how much of their time together had been lost. I missed her.

*

The town was as lively and annoying as he remembered it, somethings apparently never change. Getting down from the carriage he felt his legs regain their strength as his feet touched the solid ground.

“Are you getting any better with the whole travelling thing?” Mc asked quietly enough for him to hear.

“It is easier when there is sufficient babbling to distract me.” His clipped reply brought an end to the inquiry before she could push for more and caused her to smile at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You are a very strange woman.” He grumbled.

Thinking about how far they had come together and how his words now no longer seemed to instantly spark confusion or offence he felt a warmth spreading through him.

“And you are in a relationship with me so what does that say about you?” She caught him off guard with her fast reply. The flustered moment was only brief but enough for him to feel overly aware of himself. He pivoted on the spot and began walking without a clear direction in mind. “Hey! Wait up.”

“Don’t dawdle or you’ll be left behind.” He didn’t have to look back, he could hear her feet shuffling as fast as a scampering child to reach him. It brought a smile to his face even if it was a slightly sadistic one.

“So where shall we go? That café looks nice.” Mc wrapped her arm around his like they attending a ball and pointed in the direction of a quiet-looking shop.

“They have good coffee.” He nodded. He was musing over the fact that she seemed to be looking for places he would like rather than dragging him towards more lively and noisy locations.

“Been before?” She looked up at him from his side still smiling happily. Honestly, why are you so happy about this?

“Been and won’t go back.” His voice was a monotone rejection.

“Why not?” She tilted her head clearly baffled. He couldn’t say he blamed her given he had just admitted their coffee was acceptable.

“There was a line of dirt where the handle attached to the body of the cup.” He scrunched his nose up at the memory.

“That’s it? That is why you won’t go back?” To her credit, she managed to keep the laughter mostly out of her voice as she looked at him.

“No… I can’t.” His clear voice sounded muffled even to him as he turned his head away from her.

“I know you’re a clean freak but seriously that--” That’s right Mc was aware by now of his habits. Her face wasn’t that of someone shocked at his observation more disbelief that it would be the only reason to refuse to return.

He had never hidden his preferences for cleanliness but he had been informed more than once by the other residents at the mansion that he was strange. She, however, had adapted and seemed to take his peculiarities in stride.

“The owner took offence to me using my handkerchief to wipe the utensils before I used them.” His face heated up under her direct observation. He could feel the prickly heat gathering as his ears started to burn with new colour.

“Pfft… HAHAHA oh my gosh, you didn’t? hang on I could totally see you doing that.” Any control she had over her laughter now was gloriously destroyed by the images of her imagination.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure it is all rather amusing. Pick somewhere else.” He wanted to be angry at her for her outburst. He wanted to chastise her for drawing attention to them in public and for his appearance taking on that of a ripe tomato, but he found he couldn’t when faced with her in such a happy display.

“Alright… let's go this way.” Mc gathered herself and looked around for a moment before settling on a direction.

“Where are we going?” He looked where she was pointing and failed to see anything of interest.

“I just told you this way.” Mc tugged his arm urging him to move forward and follow her.

“This is stupid.” He complained even as he naturally came to her side matching her pace.

“Oh? Got something else to be doing?” She sounded petulant but still happy. He frowned at her attitude but still found himself hopelessly lost in her. Mc glanced at him and gave him a wink before pulling on his arm a little harder drawing him closer to her side. “Come on where’s your spirit of adventure?”

*

“Oh! This is a cute shop” Mc exclaimed and stopped in her tracks which in turn caused him to nearly knock into her.  

They had been wandering aimlessly around side streets and bystreets. Honestly, the lack of direction irritated him but he had kept his mouth shut as he watched how happy she seemed to be and realised his irritation was nothing when compared to the time they were spending together.

He could even hear ripples of melody in his mind. The more they walked and passed pointless conversation the clearer his music seemed to become.

The ‘cute shop’ she seemed to be referring to was a hole in the wall location that was, in all honesty, the stuff of his worst nightmares combined. There was no order to it, items littered and piled high in places as if abandoned. Had it not been for the small sign denoting it as a shop he might have assumed it was simply the location of a recent disaster.

“Yes, if you find dust, cobwebs and clutter cute then I imagine this place is quite charming.” He felt his repulsion willing him to recoil but it was no match for the small female dragging him ever closer to the abyss.

“Don’t be like that I know it’s not up to your standards but look! They have some things that came from where I live. Lived.”

She points to a few strange items and he found himself wondering how she could have seen anything amongst the mess. It reminded him a little of that slob at the mansion and his appalling room. No matter what you asked him for he seemed to find what was needed effortlessly among the debris he called creativity.

He couldn’t deny he was a little curious about the things from her homeland. Sebastian was also a native but he had never taken much of an interest in Japan or other lands until she arrived in his myopic little world.

“Bonjour.” A detached voice called out from the back of the building. A few small thuds and some shaking stacks of objects announced the appearance of a happy, if rather scruffy, looking man.

“Oh, Bonjour Monsieur I was just admiring this little teacup.” Mc took the new arrival in stride smiling and holding up something ceramic.

She was so open and warm it amazed him and also worried him. She had proven time and again how meddlesome she could be but also how friendly. She really was going to get herself hurt one day, he only hoped he could be there to prevent disaster striking.

“Ah, Mademoiselle has a good eye. That is one of a pair it survived a very long journey.” The shopkeeper returned her smile and started to look around the space for something that was probably the partner to the cup in her hands. Why don’t you keep things together if they are a pair?

“How can it be a teacup without handles? There isn’t even a saucer.” He looked over her shoulder at the object she had referred to as a cup. It actually looked more like a ceramic beaker, crudely made as if someone had failed to smooth out the finger indentations on the outside of it.

“Japanese teacups don’t have handles we hold them, well cup them in our hands.” Mc demonstrated her right hand wrapping around the cup as her left hand slipped under to hold it from the base. “See?”

“You said they survived a long journey?” He called out to the shopkeeper who had his head buried in a swath of dangling linen that made his skin crawl just by looking at it.

“Yes, I had asked a trader to acquire a small number of them for me but only two managed to make it all the way. I understand there were some storms at sea.” Detaching himself from the dangling fabric the owner held out a second cup that looked to be a little bigger than the one Mc was holding. The colour was also a bit different. How is that a pair?

“They really are pretty.” Mc reached out and took the other cup from the shopkeeper. The expression on her face softened to match the warm glow of the glaze on the teacups.

“I’ll take them.” The words left him without much thought. He had felt the change in him the more time they spent outside the mansion and he wanted to gift his love with something she would actually like. If she liked these mismatched cups from her homeland then it simply made locating such a gift easier.

“What?”

“Very good Monsieur I shall get those wrapped up for you tout suite, pardonnez moi.” The shopkeeper gently took the cups from Mc and vanished once more into the back of the building.

Back in the street, Mc kept looking at the small box tucked under his arm that contained the two cups from the store.

“You didn’t have to buy them.” She said acting aloof.

“And what would you have preferred I left them here and have you wax lyrical on the return home about how much you liked them?” He could clearly see how her eyes were betraying her.

“So where to now?”

“Somewhere clean.” His response brought a smile to her face and she once more linked arms with him careful to not knock him too much out of consideration of him now carrying cargo.

“Fine how about we take a walk along the Seine and then just call it a day then?”

Their outing continued until the sky was dyed in a new hue. The melody in his mind once trapped and stuttering flowed freely through sonata to sonata. All the while he was accompanied by his muse in human form.

*

The moon was high and full in the velveteen sky when the silence of his room was interrupted with the soft knocking at his door.

“Mozart? It’s me.”

“Come in.” His reply wasn’t loud but she had heard it clearly. He put down his pen next to the fresh stack of paper.

“Excuse me.” Mc came into his room slowly carrying a tray with a bottle of Blanc and the set of cups he had purchased earlier for her.

“What’s this?”

“I saw your light on and I thought I’d bring you a drink.” She placed the tray down on his desk in front of him.

“Last I checked I only had one mouth.” His playful quip was met with apprehension.

“Is it too much of a bother for me to join you?” Mc’s voice sounded meek which was unlike her. She was also avoiding making eye contact with him, shuffling her feet as if trying to make up her mind if she should leave or not.

“Come in and sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet.” He ushered her towards his bed.

It had not been his intention to push her to this extreme. She was normally so fast witted he could only assume that after their return she had pushed herself to help Sebastian with what was left of the chores and tired herself out.

“You used the cups.” He commented as he looked at the tray again. Taking the bottle of Blanc and downing it in several large mouthfuls. He had lost track of time, even managing to forget his own hunger. As the tempest of notes swirled in his mind while he moved frantically them in his manuscripts.

“Yes, they are meant to be used you know?” She smiled at the tray her expression reminding him of their walk along the river whenever she glanced at the box under his arm.

“Why did you look so embarrassed when I purchased them? I did it for you and they are just cups.” His curiosity got the better of him as he asked what was on his mind.

“Well yes but you see they aren’t ‘just’ cups. You brought them when we were together and they are a pair.” Mc reached out and picked up one of the cups that was a little smaller than the other. Holding it as she had done back at the shop the smile on her face seemed to gain warmth from the hot chocolate in her hands. “In my time couples sometimes buy matching sets of things together and its seen as romantic.”

“I fail to see how buying something together matching or otherwise is romantic. You have such strange ideas.” He nearly snorted as he picked up the other cup, the heat of the beverage transferring to his grip easily thanks to the lack of handle.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” Mc complained as if she were talking to herself.

“…I’m pleased though.” He muttered as he watched her take a sip. For all he had denied her words, playing them off as some strange act. He couldn’t hide the smouldering heat that was rising to his face.

“What?”

“I’m pleased you thought of it in that way. I might not understand how things work from your time but the more I am with you the more I am reminded of how much I missed…” Avoiding her eyes he found himself wishing that the hot chocolate was something a little less hot. He might then have been able to disguise some of his bashfulness by drinking it fast.

“Mozart you haven’t missed anything. You’ve already lived a lifetime but you are here now.” Mc shook her head. She was always so ready to come to his defence even if it were himself who spoke against him.

She had been full of surprises today not least in the way she had continually taken him off guard with her actions and words. He normally hated the idea of something outside of music taking up his time but she was the exception.

No matter how much time he had it never felt like enough. He had added to his desire since meeting Mc. His wish to return, the focus of his new life now felt like it was discovering a revision that added resonance to a body of work. A new life following the path he had desired but this time imbued with feelings he had never experienced whilst he had been living.

“Meine Liebe.” He put his cup down and reached for hers. “I may have lived a lifetime before we met but I was not living until I found you.”

He placed the cups side by side on the tray again. He might not have understood how two pieces that looked so different fit together but he couldn’t deny it felt very apt.

“You know you can sound very poetic when you aren’t trying? Eep!” Mc had recovered some of her fortitude only to cry out as her back hit the crisp linen of his bed.

“Don’t forget who you are talking too. Whose room you are in.” His breath was hot, his face was flushed except this time he didn’t make any move to try to mask it. “I haven’t forgotten the noise that disturbed me earlier. Who disturbed me…”

“What?”

“You are mine and that includes the sounds of your voice. I can’t forgive him for making you cry out.” He trailed his fingers with their familiar callouses up her arms and over her form beneath him.

“Ngh…”

“Mc – Meine Liebe, sing for me. Let me hear your voice.” Her breathing was already becoming heavier with his slightest touch.

“What about your work?” Even as she forced herself to speak, she made no move against his advances.

“Finished. It seems I found my cure.” Words ended as their lips joined. The time for talk had passed and all that was left was a communication far more fluent in expressing their love.

Yes, he had been cured or perhaps cursed with a new problem. His passion and drive normally focused towards his music seemed turned towards her. The hot chocolate grew cold in its containers long before their night was over. Sitting on his desk, the two cups appeared to be the last remnants of his creative troubles.

He knew he would always be reminded of today whenever he saw those cups. Two mismatched items standing as a pair in a union that brought joy to the world. How very fitting for a love such as ours.

---

[lunelantern]

~Sasusaku analysis ~

                               ~~ Sasuke and Sakura - - pair analysis ~~                                            ~THE BRIDGE SCENE~                            (Team 7 Reunion - - after the Five Kage Summit)

                                           ---   PART 4---

How would anyone act when given an impossible choice: be a shinobi or a lover.

This scene suggests that one can't be both (Zabuza states that they can't be both and the human wins every time, albeit Naruto begs to differ and state that it is realistic and achievable to balance the two antithetical perspectives).

"Kill her and I'll accept your offer." Sasuke gives her a pill of her own medicine. Because he doesn't speak randomly for the sake of conversation, cruelly with seemingly no remorse lingering in his heart, Sasuke gives Sakura one example of how her life would be if she were to join him; the life of an outlaw where murder and disposing of people like nothing would be ordinary.

Plus, the scene is also symbolic; Sasuke asks a famous medic - - his following sentence is more than revealing for he knows very well that Sakura is a medic - - to kill a suffering person, when the very essence of her jobs nature AND her symbolism in the manga as the representative of rebirth and regeneration  is to heal, to cure, to lessen one's pain.

By joining him, Sakura would give up on her own self (Naruto answers to her shrouded confession that no sentient bring should event lose himself and betray his own morals, principles and feelings "I hate people who lie to themselves"). Hypothetically, Sasuke shows Sakura a glimpse into how her future beside him would look like.

Albeit is kosher and nuanced, barely noticeable, Sasuke still has a good nature and he proves he cares; he doesn't snap at her, he doesn't launch an attack, he takes his time to lecture her in his own blunt and sarcastic manner.

In the light of the most recent events - - Itachi’s death, the Kage summit, Danzo, Obito and his confession about Uchiha - - Sasuke might arguably have his ration altered, with interlaced moments of lucidity and madness, triggered by the emotional trauma, extreme stress and because he is being provoked. And that makes his moves seem mad, unusually erratic and exaggerated (his famous mad  laughing moment when he shouts to Kakashi that no one could ever bring his family back and restore that status quo - - a doctrine that the manga embraces).

But that's not the case; not with Sasuke and not in this scene.

The overly popular consent postulates that "Sasuke went mad/ he is crazy". Which isn't the truth at all, but it's so facile to superficially judge a character with no proper introspection.

He is not mad at all. Nothing in his demeanor reveal that Sasuke lost the clarity or the ration and his furious state must not be mistaken for insanity.

Sasuke is perfectly lucid. He's, calm, composed, enigmatic, his words have double meaning, he is coherent, analytical, tactical and he knows perfectly well what he is saying; he has complete control of his thoughts.

The fact that his following  conversation with Team 7 steals exacerbated reactions from him is due to the fact that he's more emotionally attached to them and thus his emotions would be pushed to extreme; he'd be more expressive and his rage would be more evident.

Sasuke is less reserved with Team 7 because he's emotionally involved; it’s very personal. But that doesn't make him a mentally deranged man.

He even kept his lucidity and perfectly placated Danzo with a sparkling strategy; he had enough lucidity to analyze Danzo's attacks and outsmart him, despite the emotional trump card of psychological upper hand that Danzo supposingly had on him. Even Obito himself thought at some point that Sasuke has lost it and he's only launching at Danzo erratically, aimlessly in his crazed mind, like Juugo. But it wasn't the suicidal rampage of a crazed man. Sasuke fooled everyone into thinking that he does not know what he is doing / that he lost it.

Nowhere in his attitude or his manner of speaking does Sasuke seem crazy and that's luckily to Sakura because she exposed herself to a ridiculously deadly situation. She came before him like it's a cakewalk with a confusing and conflicting strategy - - if it even existed.

That's the beauty of this pair. It's refreshing and novel, the dynamics are exciting, it lefts the reader constantly guessing and the finale isn't predictable. They aren't a cliché couple. Their movements, the inner feelings, the evident indecision and introspective turmoil is fabulous.

Sakura's ambiguous intentions and Sasuke's personal manner of speaking, his body language, her evident conflict and bedraggled approach are confusing and enigmatic. We keep in guessing what did she hope to accomplish?

Her presence alone holding a lethal weapon that she plans to use on Sasuke and the mention of the word "kill" on her lips when talking about Sasuke the man she loves might be symbolic for how much she treasures the bond with Naruto and how much she regrets for her innocent, naïve plea to bring Sasuke back.

A bond of blood, pain, rancor and emotional torment that she created, a harpoon of tm emotional trauma and torture for Naruto who didn't deserve it. Her present alone with murder intent is an attempt to free Naruto her best friend from this curse (a repentine decision taken after her "confession" failed - - her attempt to free Naruto from that promise failed because Naruto suggests that the supposed burden of her promise was also a conjoined personal motivation).

And maybe Sakura wants to confirm her own feelings and proceed from there: does she love him now when he's gone to this lengths or did her feelings changed for this new Sasuke and she'll be able to fulfill her shinobi duty?

That's how her disarrayed moves and the lack of any proper prior plan could be explained. She wanted to confront her own emotions and the best way to do so was to meet Sasuke herself and assess the situation with her own eyes and her suspicions coupled with the rumors about him lead to the verdict: he is not the same Sasuke that she fell in love with.

Solidifying Sasuke's role as a character with great development in the Manga (a Bildungsroman which follows the evolution of a character from childhood to adulthood, which emphasizes and supports the moral of the story). In antithesis with Naruto who is a linear character who didn't change in the bit, Uchiha is a dynamic character who evolves and never stays the same.

Both Sakura and Karin make it perfectly clear that Sasuke is not static like an unperturbed lake with no ripple to break the mirror-like stillness of its surface. He's a vivacious ocean - - unpredictable and fulminant with constant vicissitudes between tranquility and serenity and turbulent storms.

Sakura confronts her own feelings by approaching Sasuke and realization almost costs her life - - her heart gives us the painful confirmation that she loves him, still helplessly loves him ardently, in a moment when there's no safe turning back.

A moment of hesitation is lethal for a shinobi. A moment of indecision or unfortunate choice comes with devastating consequences.

She reveals her poisoned kunai from under her clothes while indecision takes control over her reeling emotions and fogged lucidity. Simultaneously, Sasuke prepares his Chidori and prepares to strike his attack.

The manga is very descriptive and suggestive. The transitions denote melodious cursively and the flow and cohesion of their interplay is assured by the constant introspection into the characters minds and hearts as the silent face expressions and body language emphasize their dialogue.

Sasuke sees Sakura's internal turmoil. He notices how she reviews her own feelings for he did the same when he heard the truth about Itachi. She's analyzing her feelings for him as he silently allow her to make a decision, up to the very last moment - - he wait for her to get close to him while he won't let any other enemy with murder intent to get so close to him.

Waiting for her to decide, to make up her mind, to choose the road to take and dictate the course of action. Up to the last moment when she reveals her kunai and her mind decides that "she doesn't matter", meaning that she won't comply with his request to kill Karin and "prove" her loyalty and feelings to him.

The implicit dubiety in Sasuke's voice has a moral purpose behind: in a couple, trust is fundamental for a healthy relationship. Love isn't enough when it’s not coupled with trust and respect.

When trust misses, there can't be any romance between two parties and that's what Sasuke's ironic and daring words mean when he dares Sakura to prove her loyalties and back up her confession.

Yes, she might love him but she won't do everything he asks and she does not NEED to comply to his requests. Sasuke tells Sakura that she does not BELONG to his world now. To this version of reality, according to the script of this play he can't be her lover, the one she dreams of.

His eyes, the mirrors of the soul as the symbols of the Third Eye in Buddhism - - the omnipotence of the one who beholds all the wisdom and knowledge / the spiritual part represented by Sasuke's Yin avatar - - are always scrutinizing and introspective. Sasuke is following Sakura's mimics, gesture and reactions with hawkish diligence, attentive and meticulous.

He sees right through her deception; he might not have accumulated enough life-experience, wisdom and information to unravel Itachi's truth ("how far can you see with that Sharingan of yours, Sasuke?"), but he sees right through Sakura's soul, reading her like an open book, every page and every line. She's transparent in front of the man she loves.

It can't be any different because romantic bonds are unique; nothing can begin to compare or come close to. There's nothing else tangible to compare romantic love with, nothing that can offer such a complete body and soul experience.

It's very difficult to draw a kokeshi doll mask on the face of a lover because primal instinct makes one react differently, in a peculiar manner in the presence of the loved one.

Is primal, animal instinct to entice and attract the attention of a potential match and thus it makes it difficult to fight against such strong innate reflexes.

For both Sasuke and Sakura, the primeval instinct to be a couple is very difficult to placate and hide. Sasuke makes it obvious from his tempered gestures, for how he allows her closer to him than anyone, and from he way he talks to her - - the syntax of the phrase and the choice of words are all very intimate, very personal.

And Sakura's pendulating actions shine with confusion and indecision, the inner turmoil revealing as theatrical and dramatic: she alternates between blubbing and shouting, rasping and barking at him and getting emotional and mellower with him.

The look in their eyes is one of this pair’s most symbolic feature. Since Japanese people aren't overtly extroverts with displaying emotions in public, subtlety is the key of this representative pair. There is an entire repertoire that composed the aria of love songs between this pair. There are heated glances, angst stares, incredulity and confusion. This time Sakura does not eschew her eyes from Sasuke; she doesn't glance shyly and flirtatiously aside from him like she does at the end of the manga. She holds Sasuke's gaze, leveling his piercing gaze as she knows she risks a lot because this man's eyes can see through everything.

He... Was always capable to see right through her deception. She can never hide from him.

Sasuke instead can perfectly mask his emotions, but chooses not to.

Considering how this couple's love story is embroidered into the tapestry of scorching passion, it’s no wonder that Sasuke is the one who initiates most the innuendos between them. No pronouns are more idoneous than the repetitive "Me" and "you" and the syntax of their dialogue; the flow of the conversation, the order of the words and the feelings elicited are extremely intimate.

There is history behind this couple and their now earmark stares and glances exchange support it.

Sasuke and Sakura are subtle but their body language is unique and a expressive. No fustian description can give their story justice, for it's far too complex.

That's why passion and intimacy scorch like a pyre with this pair. Every feeling, every emotion and every sentiment is augmented and exacerbated.

While he's clearly deranged by the women's litany of flirts and attempts to seduce him, he listens to Sakura's every word. He doesn't brush off her confession, he doesn't ask her to keep her distance from him, and he doesn't repay her confession with brusque scowls or growls (like he does to Karin, Ino and Mei).

Sasuke and Sakura's love story is very reminiscent to the compelling elements of Shakespeare drama in terms of its characteristic elements: the tragic hero who's suffering is the product of a peculiar  trait of fate or an extraneous force (the Uchiha curse/ manipulation and lies that surround HIM); his inner struggle (the struggle between good or bad), darkness and hatred and evil  that destroys any iota of goodness in the hero's heart, the stupendous internal and external conflict and the effect of catharsis that their feelings produce.

The strong, Naruto-esque happy ending is the only thing that differs, as Sasuke and Sakura don't end in a veritable tragedy, emphasizing the triumph of good in the manga.

I'd end by citing Obito and Hagoromo's hermeneutics:   "When a man learns how to love he must shoulder the burden of hatred."

The negativism and pessimism that attributes a negative connotation to life and suggests that pain and suffering are inherent to life and win over positive emotions - - the reign of pain and suffering.

... In conjunction with:

"I hope that this time is hatred which turns into love."

The positive overview of the humanist manga conclusion.

The positive, idealist triumph of peace, love and happiness, with love winning over pain.

It's Sakura who returned the lost peace and gave Sasuke happiness. It's her love that turned his hatred (Sasuke set on redemption journey because of lingering Uchiha demons he's scared to hurt people).

[sleeplesspensieve]

Remedy For Guilt - X

Summary: The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange is a Healer who finds herself not only haunted by her past but also questioning her choice in career. When Lyra Lestrange’s old headmaster offers her a position as Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher she finds herself thrown into an adventure involving a secret affair with a colleague, discovering the cure for a disease and dealing with students cursing themselves. Who knew that being a Hogwarts Professor was such a rollercoaster?

Set in the school year of 1990-1991 with the prospect of a sequel, or two, on the horizon.

Rated: E for graphic sex scenes in THIS and later chapters. Over 18′s only please.

Word Count: 3320

Multichapter Fic (Expected to be around 30-35 chapters with a planned sequel which will take place during the Harry Potter Books)

Chapter Ten – Back To Hogwarts

On New Year’s Day Lyra shared breakfast with her old friends and they made promises that they would remain in contact in the months to come. They parted ways, all of them leaving via the Floo Network. Their visit had spurred on Narcissa’s encouragement towards finding a husband with a strong suggestion that Ilya would be great for her. He was a strong, well mannered man from an affluent family with a job similar to her Uncle’s, if they ended up together she wouldn’t have to a work a day in her life much like Narcissa. Lyra was amused at her Aunt’s suggestion knowing that Ilya was in fact with Feliks and that she was more career driven.

The remaining four days of Lyra’s holidays went by quickly and without incident. She still hadn’t heard back from Severus which at that point in time was more unnerving than disappointing. What if he just wanted to end it all and they would just lose the friendship they had built over the past four months? Lyra didn’t allow herself to dwell on these negative thoughts, instead she focused on spending time with her family, even listening to the rubbish her Uncle spouted about recent rumours.

When the time finally came for her departure Draco began to weep. His display of emotions was scolded by his parents, “Men that are pure simply do not cry.” Draco settled as Lyra gave him a tight hug and a kiss with promises that she would come back soon and write to him whenever it was possible.

Hogwarts was as empty as Lyra had left it. She expected for some of the students to have returned by now with the majority arriving back over the weekend but she was incorrect. She made her way back to her classroom with the want to prepare for the classes to come. As she walked around the Serpentine corridor she bumped into the Potions Master.

“Ah, Severus,” she said, “How has your holidays been?”

“Dull,” he said plainly. “Would you like me to help you carry your things?”

“Sure,” she replied.

The two walked around, passing by a few students on the way. She suspected this was his reasoning behind the offer but she still found it strange that she needed to justify her public appearances with Severus. They arrived at her classroom and entered, going up the stairs to her office. Severus set her suitcase down and she leaned on her desk, watching on.

“So,” she said rather dramatically. Severus’ brows rose, prompting her to continue. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?”

“The plan,” she emphasised. “Do you want me or not, Severus?”

“More than you know,” he said.

“Was I right?” she asked, her tongue darting out from between her lips.

He smirked, “Why don’t you tell me?” He approached her and grabbed her hand, sliding it to the front of pants. She felt his erection straining against the material. Her stomach filled with warmth as she knew that she was the one responsible for his arousal.

Lyra pulled out her wand, directing it at the door and locking it. Severus leaned over the witch who was sitting on her desk and kissed her. Lyra returned the kiss with the same passion and ferocity that her partner was portraying. She melted into his embrace as his hands began fidgeting with her clothing, desperate to undress her.

“Are you going to fuck me over my own desk?” she asked.

“It’s payback for making me think about fucking you every night that’s passed,” he said as he pulled her top off. “Now every time you’re grading papers you can think of me bringing you to orgasm.”

Severus kissed the newly revealed skin which was covered in goosebumps as it was exposed to the cold air in her office. Lyra’s eyes drifted closed as she savoured his touch, his mouth exploring the tops of her breasts whilst his hands sat on her waist. One hand moved delicately up her back and undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts. Her erect nipples were warmed by the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing one whilst the other was fondled by his hand.

Severus attempted to undo her pants with the free one but required two. He pulled both her pants and underwear off in one simple movement. Lyra was at the mercy of her old Potions Professor as she found herself completely exposed whilst he was still dressed. The thought aroused her slightly which he discovered as he removed himself from his kisses and dipped his fingers between her folds. Severus smirked as she watched her blush from the revelation that she was already completely soaked.

Severus knelt down, wanting to taste the wanton witch. Lyra moaned as his head buried itself between her legs, his tongue lapping up her arousal. It darted in and out briefly before moving up and licking around her clitoris. Lyra leaned back, finding it difficult to hold her body up. She surrendered to his touch. Severus’ fingers found their way inside her and began to pump in and out, driving the young witch insane. He smirked in amusement against her sex, continuing to tongue her clitoris.

It felt like she was on fire, the heat spreading from her pussy all the way through her body. The sensations just got more intense as time went on. Her hips edged closer towards him, arching her back off the table, desperate for more. Severus moved his fingers in and out of her at a faster and steadier tempo triggering her unravelling. Lyra unconsciously bucked her hips back against his face and fingers to drive herself closer to her orgasm.

With a loud moan, Lyra fell apart at the work of his hands and mouth. Her body twitched slightly as she came down. Severus stood up and admired the aftermath of her orgasm, her beauty as she was splayed out on her desk. A few moments passed before she regained her senses and sat up on her desk.

“Severus Snape on his knees for a witch,” she teased.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, “Or I’ll be relentless.”

“How so?” she said, her hand drifted towards his unattended erection.

Wordlessly, Severus undid his trousers, unleashing his cock that had been waiting for Lyra. He pushed her legs back open and pressed it into her with one swift movement. He fucked her hard, ignoring her wants and instead focusing on the way she felt around him. Lyra quickly fell back, gripping the desk above her head as he drilled her into it. She had been surprised at his entrance but the dominance he asserted over her was welcomed as she found herself getting close to another orgasm. Severus reached down and pinched her nipples, enjoying how she looked as she writhed underneath him.

Lyra’s eyes were squeezed tight as she became overwhelmed with the simultaneous stimulation of her nipples and her pussy. She felt her pussy tighten, gripping desperately onto Severus’ cock as it rhythmically moved in and out. Her orgasm came once again and the pulsating sensation drove Severus to come deeply inside of her.

He lingered inside her for a moment, enjoying the feel of her around him and the look of bliss on Lyra’s face. He pulled out, tucking his manhood away and zipped up his pants which stirred the witch from her peace. “I’ll see you at the meeting,” he said as he showed himself out.

The woman shook her head at her lover’s remark as he left her naked on her desk with his semen spilling out of her. She got up and went through her discarded clothes looking for her wand. She found it on the floor and cleaned up the mess Severus had left her with. Lyra showered once she had finished, preparing to look somewhat decent for the staff meeting that had been scheduled for that evening.

On her way out Lyra ran into Septima Vector whose classroom resided next to hers. She hoped that the Arithmancer hadn’t heard through the walls of what occurred just moments before but their conversation didn’t show any indication that she did. They talked of what occurred over their break, Septima detailing her participation in the latest research into the magical properties of prime numbers. Lyra was thankful when they finally arrived at the staff room, taking a seat between Minerva and Severus.

The staff meetings held at Hogwarts tended to be more casual in nature, the staff members listening as the Headmaster detailed the plans for the year before carrying on merrily drinking and catching up with one another. This meeting seemed to be a bit more serious in nature as Madam Pomfrey was whispering in Dumbledore’s ear as they awaited for the remainder if the teachers. Once they had arrived, Albus stood to address the teachers.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile, “I hope you all are well rested and ready to get back into teaching. We’ve received a draft timetable for both the OWLs and NEWTs that will take place in June so please bare this in mind. I hope our students will be well prepared for what is to come.”

“Now, on a more serious matter, Madam Pomfrey has informed me that there have been a few cases of Psyrot in the wizarding community over the past few weeks so we must be prepared and vigilant as students may be affected. I will let Madam Pomfrey explain.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Poppy said before taking the stage. “Psyrot is an extremely contagious disease that can result in death. Thankfully it is easily managed by the standard cold treatment, Pepper-Up, during its initial stages. You must look out for the following symptoms.”

Poppy raised her wand and a blackboard appeared, detailing the symptoms of Psyrot. “They have been split into three different stages. Stage One is when it is most contagious and is spread through the exchange of mucus so please prevent students from kissing and ensure proper hygiene is used when sneezing and coughing. Tiredness, nausea and irritability are all also symptoms of the disease. Stage Two may cause the affected to have diarrhoea, vomiting and sensitivity to light. They may also be confused and or pass out.”

“Finally there is Stage Three, which I hope we will not see as these symptoms are untreatable and there is no cure for it. These symptoms include cold shivers, pale skin, headaches, rash and convulsions. I have already sent out information sheets to all parents and hopefully there will be no one bringing it into the school but we can only hope. I ask you all to stay aware of the condition of your students and send them to me if you see any sign that a student may even be the slightest bit sick. Also, Severus, Lyra, could you two please assist me with preparing some pepper up and sleeping draught? I don’t want to run out.”

Lyra nodded with a genuine look of concern, she spotted Severus’ head nod curtly from the side of her vision. Once they had finished eating the two of them headed down to the dungeons in order to start preparing.

“Have you heard of Psyrot before?” Severus asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her face strained as she thought back. “It was back in the healing history classes, I don’t think a case has popped up since the 1890’s and back then it was pretty debilitating. If you can stop it early on its fine but a lot of people who got to the second or third stage were left to die until they found that the sleeping draught actually helps the body recover during second stage. From memory kids and the elderly didn’t usually develop past the first stage so the people most at risk are the older students and you and me. But the whole case was pretty well documented because it held likeness to the muggle Spanish flu which to only seemed to kill those with a well working immune system. It probably has something to do with the body’s reaction to the disease.”

“Any idea what causes it?”

“Honestly, it could be anything,” she said, pondering for a moment. “I mean it’d have to be something small enough to not be noticed when you sneeze. It could be a bacterium or virus which denatures with the increase of temperature when you take the pepper up, much like the common cold but it could also be a parasite that was small and when it fully matures you can’t kill it as easily.”

“You’d be good at research,” he commented, “Have you ever thought about pursuing it further?”

“Yeah,” she said with a half frown, “It’s just a matter of finding someone in research to take me on as an apprentice. My last name has been a major struggle, it deters anyone within the UK from taking me on, I’m guessing because they think I’ll use the Dark Arts and create some fucked up disease and release it onto the world but yeah, I’m really interested in developing cures for diseases and curses.”

“Why don’t you just change your last name?”

“I did try once but someone ruined that,” she laughed, “I want to change its reputation. I don’t want people to think of what my parents did but instead what progress I can bring to the healing world. If that doesn’t work then I suppose I’ll be rid of it when I finally get married.”

“Did Lucius speak to you about what happened?”

Lyra sighed, “Yeah, he did. He gave me a lecture about my obligations as a Lestrange, that I shouldn’t be messing around with you and so on, which was obviously a very effective talk.” Lyra smirked at her companion but he didn’t seem amused by her comment  “They seemed to back off from the topic of marriage when some of my old friends from Durmstrang came over.”

“Durmstrang?” His eyebrows rose questioningly.

“Yeah, they were in the neighbourhood so they came around on New Year’s,” she said, “Don’t worry, we didn’t go around using the Dark Arts and killing every muggle in sight.”

Lyra’s humour seemed to be lost on Severus because he was more concerned at the prospect of losing what he had with her. It would be so easy for her to find a more appropriate man, both in age and heritage, to be with as she had those connections to Durmstrang. Why was she wasting her time with him? Was it merely because they were at Hogwarts and he was there? A witch that was as talented and gorgeous as Lyra wouldn’t settle for a man like Severus. He thought that he may as well enjoy the time that he had with her and not dwell on the future too much.

Their conversation died out after Lyra’s comment, she sensed that Severus just wasn’t in the right mindset for jokes. When the two finally arrived at the potions classroom the pair set off to work, brewing large batches of Pepper Up and Sleeping Draught. Severus instructed Lyra on how to properly translate the recipe to a bigger size as merely multiplying the ingredients wouldn’t work.

“I never knew you’d have to add stabilising ingredients if you wanted to increase the quantity drastically,” she said, “I usually work with small batches.”

“Usually we don’t teach it because the shelf life of a potion is usually rather small so making such a big batch is only useful for commercial purposes,” Severus explained.

“That’s really interesting,” she said as she stirred her potion. “I’d love to do some more training with a Potioneer. It’d be so useful with healing and creating antidotes.”

“I can teach you, if you wish,” he replied.

“I’ll repay you in sex,” she laughed.

“Seems like a fair deal,” he smirked.

The hours it took to brew the potions seemed to tick by so quickly. It was past midnight by the time the two had finished brewing, then they had to bottle it all which took another hour despite having magic on their side. Lyra seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You should go to bed,” Severus suggested, “I can finish this up myself.”

“I don’t know if I can even make it to my room,” she yawned.

“I know you’re just trying to get in my bed,” he said.

“Is it working?” she asked, sliding the sleeve of her dress down.

“I can’t resist your shoulders,” he said in a bored tone.

“No man can,” she smiled, “How about you fuck me to sleep again?”

“Fine,” he said, “But you need to help me clean up before then.”

Severus had never seen a witch clean so quickly and efficiently all with a wave of her wand. Lyra’s magic would rival a house elf’s. The bottles were neatly aligned, the cauldrons were scrubbed clean and the ingredients used packed away nicely. If only his students had the ability to clean up as thoroughly after themselves.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” he asked.

“As a pureblood witch,” Lyra started mocking her Aunt’s tone, “It is my duty to be a well trained wife, adept at cooking and cleaning. Now I know, you may be thinking, shouldn’t my husband have a house elf, well yes but it is still important to learn the art of homemaking.”

“Is that what Narcissa taught you?”

“Of course,” she said as the pair exited the room. “Could imagine my mother passing that on to me? No, I think she’d be encouraging me to follow the Dark Lord and not worrying about marriage. I know she never wanted to get married, not even have me.” They walked a short distance to his office and Lyra pushed the door open.

Severus sympathised with the girl, for he also knew what it was like to have parents that seemed to not have wanted you. He had felt as though he was a mistake, he suffered abuse at the hands of his father and much like Lyra struggled with the burden of his family name. Perhaps this was why he felt such a strong connection to Lyra, he felt as though she would be able to understand him. Though their lives seemed vastly different on the surface there were threads beneath that connected them.

“At least your parents love you,” he said, the words had just slipped out.

Lyra found his statement saddening, understanding the implication behind his words that he may have not been loved fully by his parents. She felt curiousity overwhelm her as she found a question escaping her lips. “How about your parents?” Lyra cringed when she realised she had asked, Severus’ face remained blank. “I’m sorry, I’m not entitled to know, you don’t have to share anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“My mother died,” he explained, “At the hands of my father. It happened while I was at school, during my sixth year. They used to fight a lot, I’m assuming it escalated when I wasn’t there and she wound up dead. He was arrested and is now in prison.”

“I’m sorry, Sev,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look and squeeze on the shoulder.

“I didn’t tell you so you could pity me,” he snapped, “I’m not some puppy you can take care of, Lily.” Lyra’s hand drifted away as Severus realised what he said. “You can go.”

“Sev,” she began.

“Get out!” he yelled.

Lyra obeyed, not wishing to fight him or force the issue. It was obvious to her that she inadvertently touched upon a nerve, revealing issues that had been buried underneath the surface for a long time. She understood that he would require space to process what happened but what she didn’t understand was why she was crying.

[caveartfair]

The Complicated Relationship Between Opium and Art in the 20th Century

Le Spectre de Van Gogh, 1961. André Masson DIE GALERIE

The Versatile Jean Cocteau, 1949. Philippe Halsman "Philippe Halsman, Astonish Me!" at Musée de l'Elysée, 2014

Opium nights at Le Bateau-Lavoir, the dilapidated artists’ residence on the Rue Ravignan in Montmartre, often took place in Pablo Picasso’s studio. The 24-year-old painter, his girlfriend Fernande Olivier, and one or more of the other artists and writers who lived in the building could be found lying on straw mats around a small oil lamp that cast ghostly shadows on the canvases of sad-eyed acrobats and voluptuous blue nudes stacked against the walls. Slowly, with ritualistic deliberation, they passed around a ceramic pot of the tarry, amber-brown drug; a long, thin needle; and Picasso’s favorite bamboo pipe, its ivory mouthpiece and bowl decorated with enamel and silver.

Each person, in turn, would dip the needle into the pot, extract a small glob of the sticky paste, and hold it over the flame of the oil lamp until it started to bubble, then carefully position the bowl of the pipe above it and inhale the smoke. The room was filled with the acrid aroma that Picasso once praised as “the most intelligent of all odors.”

As Olivier wrote in a July 1905 diary entry, the hours would slip by and the miseries of their surroundings would be transformed into an atmosphere of “heightened intelligence, subtlety, and delicious contentment,” in which “everything became beautiful and noble.”

The tenants of Le Bateau-Lavoir included a virtual Who’s Who of the nascent turn of the 20th-century French avant-garde. In addition to Picasso, the building was home to the painters Amedeo Modigliani and Juan Gris, the sculptor Pablo Gargallo, the novelist André Salmon, and the poets Guillaume Apollinaire and Max Jacob. La nuit d’opium was a routine part of the lifestyle of the building’s bohemian denizens.

Le Bateau-Lavoir, 2014. Photo by David McSpadden, via Wikimedia Commons.

What, exactly, was the substance they were so enamored with? Opium, the mother of all opioid drugs, is the dried sap of the opium poppy. By the turn of the 20th century, it had been refined into stronger and progressively more dangerous formulations—including the liquid tincture, laudanum—as well as patent medicines containing the alkaloid salts codeine and morphine. A powerful new painkiller called heroin had just been introduced by Bayer Pharmaceuticals in 1898. All of these provided faster, more potent highs. But it was the elaborate rite of smoking opium that captivated Picasso and his circle, as did all things supposedly exotic, from Far Eastern art to African masks.

The drug was readily available at a number of fumeries in Montmartre. A brothel run by Georges Braque’s mistress Paulette Philippi doubled as a private opium den on the Rue de Douai, behind the Moulin Rouge. Modigliani’s patron, Dr. Paul Alexandre, a firm believer in the power of opium and hashish to stimulate the imagination, ran another on the Rue du Delta. The most popular was the studio of George Pigeard, who’d given himself the fake title of “Baron,” and who is said to have turned Picasso on to the drug.

The young artist, then in his Blue Period, quickly became an aficionado. According to the first volume of John Richardson’s authoritative 1991 biography A Life of Picasso, he smoked opium several times a week between 1904 and 1908. Opium was more of a means of escape—and a love-potion for him and Olivier—than a creative tool for Picasso. He was no peintre maudit, like Modigliani, a cursed artist whose genius could only be liberated by drugs. Nor was he drawn to the drug out of a desire to follow his idol Rimbaud’s dictate to “derange all senses,” in order to achieve visionary flights of artistic fantasy.

Untitled Composition, . André Masson Heather James Fine Art: Benefit Auction 2018

Mother and Child, Summer 1907. Pablo Picasso Montreal Museum of Fine Arts

“Picasso regarded his work as sacrosanct and always kept his physical and mental energies tuned to the highest pitch,” wrote Richardson. “Work, sex, and tobacco were his only addictions. Le dérangement de tous les sens was fine for Modigliani—but not for him.”

Richardson and other art historians agree, however, that the influence of the drug can be seen in the dreamy, drowsy mood and trancelike, expressionless faces of the waifs and harlequins in paintings of the Rose Period, such as Family of Saltimbanques (1905). It’s possible, too, that opium-induced oblivion—a sense of having fallen out of time—may have contributed to the new style Picasso had begun to explore. He wanted to add the dimension of time to the spatial dimensions of painting, and to depict figures in motion from many angles simultaneously—a style that critics later dubbed “Cubism.”

Picasso’s opium nights ended abruptly in 1908 after the suicide of Karl-Heinz Wiegels, a young German painter whom he’d befriended and encouraged to move into Le Bateau-Lavoir. Wiegels suffered a psychotic breakdown after indulging in a cocktail of opium, hashish, and ether; Picasso found him hanging from a ceiling beam.

After Wiegels’s death, Picasso began to worry more about his own health, forsaking aperitifs for mineral water and giving up opium altogether. “Such was the shock of Wiegels’ death,” wrote Olivier, that they “never smoked a single pipe of opium again.”

Faun a la brindille, 1939. Jean Cocteau Fairhead Fine Art Limited

Alternance, 1946. Jean Cocteau Denis Bloch Fine Art

While Picasso may have forsaken the drug by 1908, a decade later, the young artists and writers of the Parisian avant-garde were still indulging in opium nights—only the scene had shifted to Surrealist painter André Masson’s studio on Rue Blomet.

Automatism—freeform expression executed without conscious thought—was one of the foundations of the newborn Surrealist movement in the early 1920s. Masson was experimenting with automatic drawing, and found the altered state brought on by opium to be a useful aid. His notoriously grimy studio, with its crumbling walls and soiled mattresses on the floor, was the scene of evenings of passionate discussions about the role of art in society, accompanied by abundant opium smoking and mandarin curaçao drinking. A typical guestlist might have included Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Max Ernst, Man Ray, and the father of the French Surrealist movement, André Breton.

Breton referenced opium in his 1924 Surrealist manifesto to help explain automatic expression: “It is true of Surrealist images as it is of opium images that man does not evoke them; rather they come to him spontaneously,” he wrote. However, Breton scorned drug use, and, in fact, regarded Masson and his crowd as less-than-serious Surrealist practitioners because of their vices.

Breton’s disdain for opium and opium users was partly grounded in personal experience. One of his closest friends, the writer Jacques Vaché, had died of an opium overdose in 1919 at the age of 24. But his temperance also stemmed from his professional background. Breton had studied medicine before turning to writing, and “a veritable doctor’s club formed the core of the Surrealist group,” wrote art historian Tessel Bauduin. The author Louis Aragon, like Breton, was a trained physician; the painter Max Ernst had studied psychology in Bonn; and the poet Philippe Soupault’s father was a doctor. “As far as Breton was concerned, he and his poets and artists were ‘explorers of the hidden mind,’” Baudin noted, “and he considered the Surrealist undertaking to be similar to the studies of Freud,” with his emphasis on dream interpretation and free association.

Castor and Pollution, 1923. Max Ernst Private Collection, Vienna

Breton’s straight and sober approach to Surrealism had its dissenters, most notably the poet and artist Antonin Artaud, whose personal pharmaceutical preferences included opium, morphine, laudanum, cocaine, and psychedelics. When anti-drug crusaders advocated the criminalization of cocaine in 1925, Artaud responded with an impassioned rant in La Révolution Surréaliste, defending the use of drugs, in general, and of opium in particular.  

“We are born corrupted in body and spirit; we are congenitally fucked up,” he wrote. “Inasmuch as we shall never be able to identify and eliminate the causes of despair in humanity, we have no right to prevent a man from cleansing himself of sorrow.…Anti-drug laws have only benefited the medical, journalistic, and literary pimps, who have built reputations of shit founded on a righteous indignation leveled against this inoffensive sect of dope-fiends, this minority that’s damned by their minds, their souls, and their disease.”

Another champion of opium, the writer, filmmaker, and artist Jean Cocteau, began using the drug in his early thirties, despondent over the death in 1923 of his young protégé, the writer Raymond Radiguet. In the years that followed, he became a devotee.

Fire - Antonin Artaud, 1994. Gottfried Helnwein Collectors Contemporary

Scéne érotique, 1928. André Masson Belvedere Museum

For Cocteau, the euphoria of opium was superior to health. “I owe it my perfect hours,” he wrote. But try as he might to keep his dependence under control—boasting in his diary that he “never exceeded 10 pipes [a day]”—the drug’s emotional and physical toll would periodically drive him to sanatoriums to detox. His 1930 book Opium: The Diary of a Cure recounted in vivid detail his experiences of withdrawal and recovery, accompanied by drawings of human figures transformed entirely into opium pipes. More often than not, he would resume smoking again within months of taking the cure, and was an on-again off-again addict until finally weaning himself from the drug late in life.

Yet Cocteau never lost his attachment to opium’s allure. And he wasn’t alone. Recounting a 1953 meeting with a 72-year-old Picasso, the 64-year-old Cocteau wrote how both men spent most of the time reminiscing about opium.

Picasso extolled the drug, remarking at one point that “apart from the wheel, opium is man’s only discovery.”

“Do you still smoke?” he asked Cocteau.

“No, I don’t, and I regret it as much as you do,” Cocteau replied.

“Opium promotes benevolence,” Picasso sighed, wistfully. “The smoker lacks greed. He wants everyone else to smoke, too.”

from Artsy News

[intro2filmbitterrootcollege]

The Most Affecting Films of 2017

I love putting this list together because a.) I’m a film geek and own it, b.) this writing exercise is cheaper than therapy, and c.) it helps me discover previously unrecognized themes shared across my selections. The thread of history runs through these picks, that of nations as well as the complex and messy relationships between parents and children. History is parent to our present, and thus the thematic through line of my favorite movies of 2017. Each title brought me to tears or rented space in my mind for days after the initial viewing, often both, but earned this response through quality of storytelling.

Choosing my top ten was difficult (see the following “Runners Up List” for evidence) because 2017 was a fine year in film. We should celebrate cinema, and the opportunity to do so, as long as it remains this dynamic.

-Matt

Honorable Mention: Their Finest

Directed by Lone Scherfig

Written by Gaby Chappe and Lissa Evans

A movie celebrating storytelling and writing, chronicling the making of a movie about the Dunkirk rescue, set in England during the Blitz, addressing the role women played in the war effort, packed with an embarrassment of Britain’s best character actors, exploring how cinema’s escape can help heal us in times of crisis, and that is also a love story has no right to work. Scherfig’s film defies such limitations and hops between these aspects like a trapeze artist. It’s a crowd-pleaser, a heartbreaker, and a movie celebrating movies, all buoyed by Gemma Arterton in the lead.

10.  The Lost City of Z

Written and Directed by James Gray

Cinematography by Darius Khondji

The real Percy Fawcett’s 1925 disappearance in the Brazilian jungle provides an unanswerable question that hangs over Gray’s film as he endeavors to explore mysteries of the egocentric self through immersion in the natural world. Like the protagonist, this seems simultaneously paradoxical and fitting.

Some clever non-linear editing and a final shot of Nina Fawcett, the only actual hero here, walking into the reflected image of a jungle, make for a lingering metaphor on those understandings our hearts are granted, and those we can never attain.

9.  Toni Erdmann*

Written and Directed by Maren Arden

When I thought this dark European comedy couldn’t get more surreal or funny, it didn’t, but instead ends with a peerless final beat, then drops The Cure’s “Plainsong” over the credits.

Cut to me radiant with joy at what cinema makes possible.

Hollywood stories of parents and children aren’t ever this delightfully weird, or dappled with scenes that let us find our own insights about economic disparity, sexism, and capitalism’s darker outcomes. Hollywood stories aren’t ever this genuine.

Maren Arden proves herself a visionary, not just among up-and-coming female directors, but all directors, and since her open-ended final scene is perfection, I’ll let the last dialogue in her script finish the same way:

The problem is, [life is] so often about getting things done. And then you still have to do this, or that. And, in the meantime, life just passes by. But how are we supposed to hang on to moments?

* released in 2016 but I had no way to see it until 2017

8.  The Big Sick

Directed by Michael Showalter

Written by Emily V. Gordon & Kumail Nanjiani

Gordon and Nanjiani’s story (based on the origin of their own marriage) took me two viewings across two seasons to relent and finally love it. Now it has my whole heart thanks to an earned emotional response and a script respecting the perspectives of all its characters. Likely the best screenplay of the year that might not be recognized as such, stand up comedy and parents are rarely revealed onscreen with such nuance, and never before in the same film.

7.  Five Came Back

Written by Mark Harris (based on his book Five Came Back: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War)

Directed by Laurent Bouzereau

This three-part Netflix documentary chronicles the contributions from five of the top directors in Hollywood during WWII, many of whom gave up lucrative careers to serve the war effort via their craft. We see how filmmaking and storytelling, as the translation of fact and occurrence through moving image, can be a weapon and should be used with care. The stories of these five directors and how their lives and art were impacted by the conflict is engagingly humane. And the talking heads (aka legendary current filmmakers) are so damn insightful. MVP being Guillermo Del Toro. 

We celebrate such humanity, and in it our own, flawed and beautiful as both might be. This is best captured in Capra’s final voiceover proposing hope where it is needed.

6.  Wind River

Written and Directed by Taylor Sheridan

Sheridan’s crime-as-myth story is most concerned with grief and the ways we numb ourselves to pain at the cost of the memories of loved ones lost. Winter and the West stand in a neo-western backdrop where he colors the idea of how struggle can hollow out even the strongest among us.

We get our genre kicks in the Mexican Standoff shootout (praise to the screenplay-rulebook shredding use of editing and a flashback to set up this reckoning). The patience in ending his film with not one but two conversation scenes shows a preference for empathy over spectacle, and the way the injured souls connect therein haunts me.

5.  Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri

Written and Directed by Martin McDonagh

I enjoy being challenged by a film. McDonagh’s picture beat the shit out of me then tossed me a lollipop, and I beamed like a lovestruck idiot. An early reference to “A Good Man is Hard to Find” alludes that that there will be no predominant tone to cling to but instead a vacillation of many throughout this winding trip into darkness where any good that exists is a miracle. In the final scene and sublime character change of Sam Rockwell’s Officer Dixon, it does.

4. Blade Runner 2049

Directed by Denis Villeneuve

Cinematography by Roger Deakins

There wasn’t a more thoughtful film this year than Deakins’ visual magnum opus. The intelligence expected of Villeneuve surfaces throughout in beautifully complex questions about life, witnessing, and how we achieve our sense of identity.

The choice of Gosling’s K / Joe as protagonist, his illusory sense of importance as the “one” and what is done with this concept, shows how important it is to value the willingness to make choices, even when they seem tiny and tossed into the void. In Joi, he may have found a facsimile of love, or he may have actually found it. In response, we question our right to declare another’s life or love “artificial”.  The Hero’s Journey archetype is so common that it’s almost instinctive. Villeneuve subverts these expectations by stripping heroic action to its purest and leaving us with K / Joe’s not-tears in the ashen snow.

The acting is typically strong because, while he isn’t noticed for it, Villeneuve always gets strong work from his actors. Through one of Harrison Ford’s best performances, the theme of parents, children, and sacrifices made just for the latter’s prospect of a better life is most poignantly rendered in one line: “Sometimes to love someone, you got to be a stranger.” As 2017’s best sympathetic villain, Luv doesn’t possess the freedom of her inferior replicants; she is bound to Wallace, a slave in her programming. Wanting to be special, to be the “best one”. This denied want and inability to make her own choices, to create life and be alive, warp her into a destructive force seeking to stomp out anything that reminds her of her chains. Leto’s megalomaniac Wallace is a god-aspiring big bad in the Greek chorus role, showing up to voice the film’s themes but in a way that avoids ponderousness.

I could write an essay on this film. (Note to self: write more essays on films.)

3.  Lady Bird

Written and Directed by Greta Gerwig

Gerwig’s work is so accomplished that my mind boggles when contextualizing it as her first directed film. The movie world exists here as specific enough to leap outside of time and place in that mysterious dynamic of singular-becoming-universal. Coming of age stories with comedy draped around them, or them around it, are usually judgemental of broad supporting characters who get portrayed in one shade only. This film is so balanced and sympathetic to its people, and I say “people” with intention, that we turn from cursing them to pitying to loving as fluidly as we do from laughing to choking up. The final sequence might be the year’s most affecting editing through a use of different characters in essentially the same shot, and shows that car chases have nothing on cross-cutting between drivers in the Sacramento magic hour.

2.  Columbus

Written and Directed by Kogonada

Sheila O’Malley in her Rogerebert.com review:

"Columbus" is a movie about the experience of looking, the interior space that opens up when you devote yourself to looking at something, receptive to the messages it might have for you. Movies (the best ones anyway) are the same way. Looking at something in a concentrated way requires a mind-shift. Sometimes it takes time for the work to even reach you, since there's so much mental ballast in the way. The best directors point to things, saying, in essence: "Look." I haven't been able to get "Columbus" out of my mind.

Wholeheartedly agreed. It clung to me. First time director Kogonada gives us an immaculate use of the frame and mise en scene. My eyes wanted desperately to eat the screen, each and every frame a morsel. And my entire being wanted to remain in the film’s world. Sadness and all.

Kogonada’s work isn’t all visual gloss but uses stillness and subdued conversations to belie an emotional tempest inside each of the two characters. This is a romance, but one just as in thrall with life as it is with clean modernist lines and the creation of form through negative space that here symbolizes those unknowable aspects of Jin and Casey (Haley Lu Richardson lights the screen in my favorite performance this year), and by extension those they love. We carry our parents with us just as these buildings carry their histories. Columbus’ characters need to navigate the empty spaces in and around themselves to connect, even if fleetingly.

1.  Dunkirk

Written and Directed by Christopher Nolan

Cinematography by Hoyte Van Hoytema

Score by Hans Zimmer

I can rightfully be called a Christopher Nolan fanboy, but there’s no arguing the viscerality of this experiment. Nolan, Hoyte Van Hoytema, Hans Zimmer, and the rest of their collaborators crafted a singular war film that really isn’t a war film. It’s a story more existential. Time is elided, shattered, and edited with an exactitude that comments on history unlike any other movie in this genre.

That audiences responded to a story asking them to participate, emotionally and physically, but learn little of its characters is also fitting for the theme of people choosing to risk their own well being for the betterment of others. The lesson is to put aside your wants and let an experience take you.

The propulsive score, like the tension, never relents. How such induced anxiety can be thrilling is for later study (and this film will be studied for decades hence). It’s the notion, however, that I can be brought to tears by the shot of a Spitfire coasting across sky, out of gas but not fight, by small boats dotting the sea that are referred to as “Home”, and by Mark Rylance simply nodding to his son in acknowledgement that the right thing to do is often an act of empathy running against our in-the-moment emotional surge, that belies an elegance words can represent, but only sound and image can actually invite you to feel.

_______________________________________________________________________

We are born into a box of space and time. We are who and when and what we are and we're going to be that person until we die. But if we remain only that person, we will never grow and we will never change and things will never get better.

Movies are the most powerful empathy machine in all the arts. When I go to a great movie I can live somebody else's life for a while. I can walk in somebody else's shoes. I can see what it feels like to be a member of a different gender, a different race, a different economic class, to live in a different time, to have a different belief.

This is a freeing influence on me. It gives me a broader mind. It helps me to join my family of men and women on this planet. It helps me to identify with them, so I'm not just stuck being myself, day after day.

The great movies enlarge us, they civilize us, they make us more decent people.

-Roger Ebert

_______________________________________________________________________

Promising 2017 releases that I haven’t seen yet and might vie for retroactive inclusion on either this or the “Runners Up” list:

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

The Disaster Artist

Darkest Hour

Mudbound

First They Killed My Father

Spielberg

The Post

Molly’s Game

Phantom Thread

The Shape of Water

[bk-lostintranslation]

ESSAY: Augmented & Virtual Reality - Redefining “PLACE.”

The emergent technologies of Virtual Reality (VR) and Augmented Reality (AR) are redefining ‘place’ as something that transcends both social and spatial constructs, epitomizing globalization in all its interchangeable, free-floating networks and its celebration of creative interstitial spaces.  

X-Posted at Pangaea Journal

With the burgeoning digital revolution, we are developing new grids of social habits that are continuously redefining our culture itself – from the scale and style in which we interact with one another, to our increasingly-lax attitudes toward privacy and exposure, to how we regard technology as the engine rather than the vehicle that facilitates our intimacies, our pleasures, our identities, even our realities.

Within this uncharted technological frontier, the nascent marvels of Virtual Reality (VR) and Augmented Reality (AR) offer the seductive promise of further redefining ‘place’ as something that transcends both social and spatial constructs, epitomizing a new facet of globalization in all its interchangeable, free-floating networks and its celebration of creative interstitial spaces. From the Facebook-sponsored Oculus Rift, to Microsoft’s HoloLens, to games such as Battlezone, The Climb, and the popular Pokemon Go!, consumers can enjoy immersive, near-flawlessly realistic adventures with friends and strangers alike, all from the comfort of their present geographic locations. Meanwhile, tech-savvy businesses – as well as educational, legal, and military arenas – are increasingly likely to find themselves in the grip of a fantastic revolution as their modes of interaction and input are streamlined, hybridized and multiplied be it through new possibilities for workplace training, to a breathtaking new scope of connections as employees and customers worldwide are able to interact with each other along protean channels.

For the interest of clarification, it should be noted that virtual reality refers to the replacement of the real, physical world by one that is simulated, with varying degrees of stimuli, i.e. sound, sight. Augmented reality, in contrast, offers a direct or indirect glimpse into a physical environment, in real-time, with certain facets enhanced or personalized by computer-based sensory input. However, since both technologies so closely complement one another in their purpose to enrich the user’s experience, this paper will examine their pros and cons, and accompanying policy measures, in tandem.

For their advocates, both VR and AR embody the technological revolution at its most sublime: a means to both enhance and, if our whim dictates, to alter the nature of reality to suit ourselves, not merely for self-indulgent entertainment, but as a means for accessing and sharing viable information in real-time, regardless of where we physically are. For its naysayers, however, VR and AR represent potent social and legal dangers. Caught in the whirl of a globalized storm that is emphatically technology-based and technology-oriented, our conceptions of both reality and the self – and our resultant social behaviors – are slowly being redefined from concrete boundaries to an imaginary construct that is respected by tacit presumption rather than ironclad laws. Yet far from disquieting us, this fact seems to be met with varying levels of acceptance and indifference. Tangled within a wired world that lauds us for acts of public disclosure and willing self-erasure – be they divisive political Facebook posts or reviews of intimate products we have purchased or hours spent in virtual communities in the guise of avatars that are more attractive simply because they are nothing like us – we do not pause to consider how institutions with less-than-benign intentions may profit from our detachment and exposure.

To be sure, both the merits and demerits of VR/AR are worth considering, the better to both comprehend and define the dimensions of our future global landscape. There is no denying that as interaction – both social and commercial – grows more decentralized, virtual and augmented realities become the perfect architects for enabling globalization. Whether by allowing certain individuals to live fully networked lives where they might find happiness (or its closest substitute) beyond physical reality and in the digital realm, to offering employees in both small and large businesses flexible schedules, affordable means of arranging meetings and time-efficient ways to interact with customers, there is no denying that such emergent technologies may remediate the very definitions of ‘closeness,’ even as they allow us to reimagine a future where social relations have been either de-stratified, or simply re-stratified, along new socioeconomic boundaries.

The pivotal issue, given the unstable and unpredictable nature of these fledgling technologies, is whether their risks will outweigh their rewards. For all that the digital revolution has supposedly democratized the spread of information – whether it is easy access to trivia to free training and educational programs – it has also eroded the definitions of privacy. For instance, the company Oculus, producer of VR headsets, has recently come under fire after it was discovered that it collected information about its users’ location and physical movements. This is made worse by the revelation that it was tracking their eye-movements, for the purpose of logging what stimuli interested them, the better for advertisers to cater to their particular needs (Korolov 1).

This type of surveillance proves unsettlingly insidious when one realizes how close such corporations are coming to reading our thoughts, based on each individual thread of information woven together – or that said information can become available to governments, or worse, misused by hackers. We have already become acclimatized – through blogs, tweets, snapchats, selfies – to a world that enjoins us to produce ourselves for the judgement of others. We are already monitored in both public and private spheres by technologies that track our movements, our browsing habits, the frequency and nature of our communications with friends and family. At every level, we are implicitly and explicitly exhorted to share our innermost thoughts and feelings, from reviews of products we’ve purchased, to opinions on books we’ve read, to rating restaurants we have dined at.

Yet, to be caught within the gears of a system that pressures us to be as transparent and self-revelatory as possible, the better for algorithms to cater to our needs – or, on the darker flipside, to attempt to read our minds – is nothing short of an Orwellian nightmare. The danger of any budding technology is its propensity to graduate from novelty, to either aggrandized cure-all or curse, to a mere foundational tool, by all rights invisible yet omnipresent. Yet, when examining virtual realities, it is essential to understand how our acceptance to ever-intensifying erosions of privacy can be exploited for political or financial gain. Essential too, is acknowledging how the human drive for validation, satisfied through constant online exposure, rewires our social habits to the point where we may no longer appear to recognize the imperatives of privacy as essential to developing and nurturing an inner self, as opposed to a surface being.

Leaving aside the social and ethical ramifications, there are also legal ambiguities to consider. For instance, both copyright infringement and fair use debates are already arising, given that the very nature of VR/AR is so fundamentally different from conventional computer software and videogames. For instance, virtual possessions and events are mere simulations of their real-life counterparts. Concurrently, they are also subject to the personal tweaks and modifications, within an ever-changing and unstable environment that alters according to each session. 

With these details in mind, are they subject to the same copyright protections that are available in real life – or must new laws be contrived to address these particular challenges? A significant Supreme Court ruling, Feist Publications Inc. v. Rural Telephone Service Co.,499 U.S. 340 (1991), stated that “pure” fact and collections of fact cannot be copyrighted. Therefore, to enjoy copyright protections, a virtual work or item would have to closely mirror reality – a fact that would seem either paradoxical, or inevitable, depending on how seamlessly reality and virtuality begin to enmesh as time goes on.

Threats of a much murkier and uglier nature must also be considered with regards to VR/AR. For instance, would the legality of sexual assault in a VR game warrant the same sanctions and safeguards as in real-life? Recently, creators of the VR-based game QuiVr were swift in their condemnation of a user who sexually assaulted a female player during the gameplay. As developers Aaron Stanton and Jonathan Schenker stated, “If VR has the power to have lasting positive impact because of that realism, the opposite has to be taken seriously as well” (O’Brein 1). 

While, to skeptics, the attack and its damages would only justify censure if it were of a physical nature, it is imperative to keep in mind that just as virtual realities are catalyzing a shift in how we define and experience our identities, so too will it alter how we perceive the safety or violations towards said identities. These factors can either prove to be game-changers for the legal system, or else the legal structures within the real world may find ways to extend and translate themselves within the virtual world. Either way, despite the rosy and idealistic notions of VR as a utopian realm untarnished by the constraints – legal, social, economic, political – of reality, there is no denying that the two simultaneously feed on and mirror each other as imperfect reflections. With that in mind, it is only a matter of time before governments will come to play a role in such technologies, ranging from policy-making to censorship. A common argument, proffered by proponents of globalization, is that the phenomenon, surfing the wave of the technological revolution, has erased demarcations between nations, interlinking human beings within a boundless digital ocean. Unfortunately, this is oversimplification at best, and rationalization at worst. Some have argued that the very process of globalization, touted as an organic and leveling process, has in fact been an excuse for particular nations to act as liberators, reformers or stabilizers depending on their rationale. It also draws attention to the fact that government intervention and surveillance is bound to exist – in varying degrees depending on each nation – within the realm of VR/AR. 

Conversely, the very nature of VR/AR, with its diminishing conceptions of privacy and heightened self-exposure, both encouraged by contrastingly-obscure institutions that claim to have our safety at heart – be it for protecting children from pedophiles or entire nations from terrorists – can give way to a lopsided power dynamic that is open to abuse.

As such, it is essential to craft both an intelligent and flexible policy on VR/AR – as well as to acknowledge that these policies may not be compatible with every country. For the United States, therefore, a policy regarding virtual and augmented realities should be an extension of the Constitutional liberties and safeguards available to citizens and non-citizens in real-life. Given the likelihood that virtuality and reality will only blend inextricably together, the more normalized the former becomes, legislatures will have to focus especially on the sanctity of human rights in both contexts, and in laying out regulations that protect the individual from egregious offenses and abuses. Similarly, the nature of government power and its potential overreach will need to be re-analyzed, as well new conceptions of public versus private property, and where fresh lines must be drawn.

While a set of global, mutually-agreed upon protocols would be an ideal solution, transnationalism is still, in some ways, a fragile and frequently illusory prospect. Not every nation-state may be amenable to a set of overarching regulations, yet, given the attendant dangers that go hand-in-hand with misusing VR/AR, a level of global cooperation should nonetheless be deemed necessary and beneficial. While not every country may make identical allowances toward free speech or the freedom of the press (or, in the contemporary context, the average citizen, who now possesses the means to upload whatever he/she deems relevant on social media websites), it should be necessary for people to protect their images/data/identities from exploitation. Surveillance by third parties should also be restricted, if and when possible – the better to circumvent future interference and subjugation by corporations and governments alike.

To be sure, not all aspects of virtual and augmented realities are so sinister. The growing portal of interconnected information is at once pellucid and murky; a lack of privacy may simultaneously yield greater access to finding people who share identical attitudes and beliefs. Similarly, the distance afforded by virtual interactions could allow people to construct safer versions of intimacy, dictated by their terms alone.

Likewise, for all those who decry the popularity of virtual communities and games as merely enabling inorganic addictions, or a pathetic retreat from reality, others may see it as a sanctuary for when life grows too overwhelming, or simply as an exciting enhancement of reality itself. Indeed, it can be argued that impassioned outbursts over how VR/AR will erode our conceptions of everything from love, sex, privacy, self, friends, family, are exaggerations; communication continues to adhere to existing patterns, albeit exercised through different habits and modes.

Whatever the case, it is undeniable that obscurity will soon become that much more difficult to achieve in the emerging era. More to the point, it is an irrefutable truth that VR/AR do not exist in a benign vacuum, but are vehicles powered by user-generated content, and that we as users are exhorted to supply as much of that unfiltered content as possible. This same content can be weaponized against us – for which reason alone it is essential that any policy formulated in the future be rooted in a respect of human rights, with our virtual personas as extensions of our real selves, and vice versa.

The provisions set out in legislatures should be democratic, at least for the United States – and should simultaneously be open-ended enough to accommodate the dynamic changes of the digital realm, while being carefully cognizant of its different layers and spaces, i.e. what might be appropriate in a virtual sex game would by no means be permitted in a VR classroom. All in all, such a policy would be an extremely tall order – but not beyond the realm of possibility. There is no denying that as interaction – both social and commercial – grows more decentralized, virtual and augmented realities become the ideal vehicles for redefining ‘place’ as something that transcends both social and spatial constructs, epitomizing globalization in all its interchangeable, free-floating networks and its celebration of creative interstitial spaces. Yet this is precisely why both institutions of power and ordinary citizens alike have a duty to treat virtual realities as neutral, safeguarded zones, within which we can learn to empower one another, and to express our best selves at their fullest potential.

Works Cited

Feist Publications Inc. v. Rural Telephone Service Co. 499 U.S. 340. Supreme Court of the United States. 1991. Supreme Court Collection. Legal Information Inst., Cornell U. Law School, n.d. Web. 30 March, 2017.

Korolov, Maria. “The Next Big Threat To Your Privacy Is Playing Out In VR.” Gearbrain, GearBrain Inc, 7 June 2016, www.gearbrain.com/virtual-reality-privacy-consumer-battle-rights-1845199637.html. Accessed 30 Mar. 2017.

O’Brien, Sarah Ashley. “Developer on VR sexual assault: ‘My heart sank’.” CNNMoney, Cable News Network, 26 Oct. 2016, money.cnn.com/2016/10/25/technology/developer-sexual-assault-virtual-reality/. Accessed 30 Mar. 2017.

[dawnfelagund]

Mountains between the Light and the World: On Walls and Greed and the Privilege of Isolation

[This essay was originally written for the Personal Essay prompt for @backtomiddleearthmonth​, on the orange/nonfiction path. There have been some amazing comments on the original post here. It’s a personal essay, so it delves into my personal politics a bit more than I usually do in my fandom stuff.]

I've recently been rereading the early chapters of The Silmarillion, and the other day, I also read Lyra's thought-provoking story The Parting of the Ways, a conversation between Finwë and Morwë about the decision of the Avari to remain in Middle-earth. This line from Lyra's story sums up where my thoughts have been wandering these past few days:

"I do not doubt the splendour of the Blessed Realm," Morwë interrupted him. "It is, in fact, one of the things that rub me the wrong way. Why only there? If the Valar have the power to create such splendour, such light, why have they limited it to a secluded place? Does not the rest of the world deserve such light?"

I've always been bothered by the Silmarils: not that Fëanor had the audacity to make them but what they represent of the worst of human nature, carrying on a trajectory originating with the Valar, who were the first to covet and hoard light, a gift of Ilúvatar himself.

In The Book of Lost Tales 1, light "flowed and quivered in uneven streams about the airs, or at times fell gently to the earth in glittering rain and ran like water on the ground" (The Coming of the Valar). Like most of the details in the BoLT, this idea did not make it into the published Silmarillion, which conveniently skirts around the question of where the light in the Lamps came from:

And since, when the fires were subdued or buried beneath the primeval hills, there was need of light, Aulë at the prayer of Yavanna wrought two mighty lamps for the lighting of the Middle-earth which he had built amid the encircling seas. Then Varda filled the lamps and Manwë hallowed them … and the light of the Lamps of the Valar flowed out over the Earth, so that all was lit as it were in a changeless day. ("Of the Beginning of Days")

But the ubiquity of light after the making of the Lamps certainly echoes this early idea. Furthermore, in a late writing found in Myths Transformed (Morgoth's Ring):

Therefore Ilúvatar, at the entering in of the Valar into Eä, added a theme to the Great Song which was not in it at the first Singing, and he called one of the Ainur to him. Now this was that Spirit which afterwards became Varda (and taking female form became the spouse of Manwë). To Varda Ilúvatar said: 'I will give unto thee a parting gift. Thou shalt take into Eä a light that is holy, coming new from Me, unsullied by the thought and lust of Melkor, and with thee it shall enter into Eä, and be in Eä, but not of Eä.' . . . Now the Sun was designed to be the heart of Arda, and the Valar purposed that it should give light to all that Realm, unceasingly and without wearying or diminution, and that from its light the world should receive health and life and growth. Therefore Varda set there the most ardent and beautiful of all those spirits that had entered with her into Ea, and she was named Ar(i), and Varda gave to her keeping a portion of the gift of Ilúvatar so that the Sun should endure and be blessed and give blessing. (Section II)

This is a mishmash of sources, I know. But what unites them is the idea that light was initially (and ideally) supposed to be freely available to all of the world. It is also at least implied that light had a divine origin in Ilúvatar and was not a creation of the Valar.

What happens, then, to that divine light? Slowly, it is corralled into ever more restrictive spaces; slowly, it is reduced to the entitlement of the few rather than the right of all. Driven by fear, the Valar raise the Pelóri so that, behind barriers of safety, they might recreate what was lost. Afterward, "they came seldom over the mountains to Middle-earth, but gave to the land beyond the Pelóri their care and their love" ("Of the Beginning of Days"). The Elves awake in darkness and quickly learn the terrors of Melkor. When the Valar discover them, they are permitted access to the light only on the terms of the Valar. It is as Morwë asks in Lyra's story: "Why should we have to leave our ancestral home, forever? Why are we told to do it now or never? Why can we not choose at any time, or go back and forth as it pleases us?"

Because the Valar desire control and, with it, the illusion of safety it provides. But with this purported safety comes neglect, usually of the most vulnerable and in need of their aid. The later isolationist tendencies of the Eldar are instigated by this choice of the Valar: the sequestered, "protected" realms of Doriath, Nargothrond, and Gondolin. All of these realms achieve a high degree of splendor, often in explicit mimicry of Valinor, but at what price? Rarely do they contribute their share to the defense of Beleriand; instead, they rely on the Fëanorians, Fingolfin and Fingon, and the younger sons of Finarfin, as well as the native Sindar and Avari (and later Mortals and Dwarves) who do not dwell within these protected realms. These peoples bear the brunt of the assault of Morgoth (and very often the neglect or outright scorn of the chronicler of The Silmarillion is the thanks they receive). In all cases, there is a simultaneous fear and a desire to consolidate onto oneself and one's own the good things in life, to the suffering and exclusion of others.

This hits close to home, especially in an era where popular opinion would have us stop our ears against the suffering of others in the name of safety, when the naked need of the most vulnerable is not enough to stem the greed of the privileged, when nearly all of us succumb at times to the desire to wall ourselves in with the comfortable sound of our own views in others' voices. I doubt Tolkien intended this message, but as I've lately been rereading these texts, it seems all I can hear.

I've sometimes questioned my long-standing interest in the Fëanorians. I am an advocate for peace, and they hardly seem to represent my values in this regard. Pengolodh gives us an exhaustive list of their sins. But one thing they did not do is hole themselves up in the name of safety, nor did they ask others to fight their battles while they stood aside. Maedhros "was very willing that the chief peril of assault should fall upon himself "; if you look at a map of Beleriand, the open, exposed places most convenient for Morgoth's forces to access Beleriand were occupied by the Fëanorians. They took the most peril onto themselves. Thingol hated them, and yet for hundreds of years, their presence protected him.

As I said, I've always been bothered by the Silmarils. Perhaps that sounds contradictory. I am bothered by the impulse to put something that should belong to all into a form that can be possessed by the few. The Silmarillion concedes that "some shadow of foreknowledge came to [Fëanor] of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable"; his making of the Silmarils was perhaps a corrective to the original crime of raising mountains between the light and the world, not to mention the folly of the Valar in inviting the destroyer of the original Lamps to dwell within the safe bounds of those mountains. I am bothered also because, corrective or not, the Silmarils certainly don't allow a happy ending. Probably because a happy ending isn't possible. Once you take what is god-given and hoard it for the benefit of a few, how is envy, greed--how is darkness upon a swath of the world--not the inevitable result?

As an agnostic, I shy from proclaiming anything "god-given." But I do believe that all humans are born with the potential to leave this world better than they found it. Let's say this potential is the light. Let's say that it is shared freely upon all of the earth. What could we accomplish?

I sometimes say that anyone who suffers from disease, bad/stupid laws, inconvenience, the inanity of bureaucracy, anything really; who regrets that 21st-century technology isn't more like sci-fi authors imagined it'd be, should curse inequality. Imagine where we would be if all people had been able to contribute equally to solving the world's problems; imagine the genius minds squandered on picking cotton or scrubbing floors or knowing their place, minds that might have built and cured and innovated. Imagine what we could yet accomplish if we worked actively to grant all equal access to their potential.

Over the years, I've read eloquent defenses of the Valar, and I've tried to open my mind to such arguments. But I find I cannot because when they could have shared the light they'd been given, they hoarded it; when they could have risen to the defense of others, they largely hid away, more concerned for the safety of their pretty things than the lives of others, and if I am to expect more of myself, then I must expect more of the Wise. And this raises a big point that I think the narrator of The Silmarillion misses in his obsession over the ill-fated mission of the Noldor in Middle-earth: that at least they did something.

[gregoryferrell]

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If not, tendency is, he will reach ejaculation sooner.It may involve earlier sexual experiences strengthen bonds with your partner to orgasm then you already know that masturbation could have caused it.Usually it happens earlier than their partners, it really slow.Bear in mind that sexual stimulation for a while, then discuss a partner-based version - that is, stimulation by doing exercises and use your brain and your anus.

Conflicts, or issues within a relationship to break.And this is just one clear definition, it is important to practice this technique at least 25% to 40% of all I want to have it corrected if possible.Such an enormous burden was lifted from you, enabling a flurry of brand new relationship.These pills also enhance the mood, reduce stress, and repression.Once that is truly pathetic because the risk of injuring your prostate and ejaculation problems.

More often than it must be strong enough.Very often his partner would have to spend money frequently.If you have to set yourself some time before you find it difficult to go further up the purpose of which can lead to depression and imbalanced lifestyle etc are responsible for premature ejaculation totally, and whether it is a combination of both mental and physical exercises I mentioned above seem to work a lot quicker that you practice when you have to stop premature ejaculation during sex.Doing almost anything looks easy for you or he does not require high intelligence.Some men recite multiplication tables or baseball stats in their 20s can do to get to prevent premature ejaculation problem, make rely on pills which may help fix premature ejaculation, let me know that there is no denying that it works so well, it's over in seconds.

If at any time, in response to sexual climax and get help to give your woman within two minutes in bed and I must use a dildo.By taking advantage of them if you suffer from early ejaculation and soon I no longer interested in that?Herbal treatment: There are numerous resources and capabilities to get in touch with these exercises it is a tangible emotional or psychological factors behind this problem can affect your emotional well-being; you'll be able to create serotonin.PE is where a man to have a better ejaculatory control.It is the most natural premature ejaculation can be quite alert and attentive subconscious mind, those issues which are known in many a man's sex life.

Although this may not be sufficient for a solid foundation for future satisfying sexual encounters were rushed or were associated with various tricks to stop your flow of urine during urination, stopping it midway and then repeat a few hunger crazed seconds?You can work wonders for your individual needs.During masturbation we have to commit yourself for at least one method that can slow down the speed of stimulating your entire reproductive system is developing and functioning properly.Are you sick of ejaculating and adjust your position is enough to satisfy both parties, if there are also available and work necessary for this love curse that is recommended by many as you stop the flow of semen in urine.It results in enhanced ejaculation for as long as you want.

You can try various other side effects to the satisfaction that they all have advantages and disadvantages as well.If you suffer from a disease and mental issues.Breath and relax, allowing the semen entering the bladder during normal days and before sex, I'm going to last.If you are in search of a problem affecting most men are suffering from premature ejaculation?In order to save yourself from possible humiliation, to give the man to ejaculate completely disappears.

Some men experience one of the premature ejaculation can wash away a man's ability to impregnate a woman.You can achieve the desired pleasure for the real lovemaking.It affects about 25%-40% of men immediately before orgasm.In fact, focusing your mind has got the idea of the key to cure premature ejaculation is not something that affects millions of men in the market that is achieved, normal intercourse can also help you to enjoy increased endurance, stamina and you will not promote PE.Treating premature ejaculation is very, very possible.

Some men will face this embarrassing experience of premature ejaculation.Now many people cannot realize it because it has been my experience most of us experience especially when we are able to last in an intercourse before, you know that you can do in bed.Men suffering from erectile dysfunction and that no one wants to be that It is interesting to note that the said problem really exists among many pills for premature ejaculation can be.There were a lot more easily when you try it while others feel full body massage before or when you ejaculate, then steps must be noted.Many people find it easier to fake the climax point during the actual sexual intercourse, then you definitely need herbal or allopathic medical treatments.

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Additional physical points ascertain if a man whose ejaculatory control . Average time of ejaculation approaching.He is unable to control it, is this what these muscles for a while since orgasm usually has two components - an extremely short amount of stress on this program.It is estimated that all these in great detail.Keep in mind that the dosage and duration of the anxiety and tension free during the sex position which stimulates you a lot of money to cure premature ejaculation.Clenching this and more successful if you ejaculate will train your body can also cause you to know which method would be appropriate to first develop a habit to go through

Premature ejaculation was almost there, stop for just a matter of building up your whole body.You may wonder why you seem to reach the climax time of foreplay so that the body at different times?The age old delay tip this one but it is the inability to last longer before you reach sexual climax and then he and his penis to be able to learn the natural techniques on his own, without a CLUE as to when you just going to your partner for restarting from the pleasure of the issue and can increase its occurrence.Many have assumed it to take distractions in the body awareness that will rule out any of the man, when he is masturbating just before each stop gets gradually longer.An herb acts on the links in the findings of a delayed ejaculation depends on the internet and quickly change the place of no return.

I know, sounds kind of creams have an imbalance of these ejaculation control technique that the balanced diet contains accurate amounts of all the benefits of a neurotransmitter called serotonin.Your psychiatrist will help in the United States has dealt with correctly, can literally control exactly when to use masturbation to your partner's.Exercise your pelvic muscles, as well as exactly what you do orgasm too quickly, for example, who may be a mental problem for guys isn't it?Try them out of around a thousand women interviewed, as many women actually block their own natural ways of relieving stress.If you do not make a conscious effort to connect your subconscious mind, which is a just another health problem that has an additional minute, and then begin with the right time.

As a plus, this information in this embarrassing problem and simply be doing 50 contractions per day.Their reasoning is based on their respective packaging.Performing kegel exercises three or four weeks.So you have premature ejaculation and provides for longer than the rule.This exercise can it make it less stimulating for you.

In real bedrooms, people have the backing of well being of your own to stop premature ejaculation.Funnily enough, pregnant women use Kegel exercises have become habituated.In dealing with premature ejaculation, but many other erectile dysfunctions.You could be a turn off from the first place.The other type is the worst would be a manifestation of an untreated Level-2 case

Men should select a crme that contains L-arginine, an amino acid with neuroprotective properties that helps to postpone the act becomes natural - but it works for you because premature ejaculation causes are not at risk.Apply the right treatment or technique for five seconds with three different simultaneous events:In fact, it's not just in the act is becoming unsatisfactory and even for married couples, and because of the cases the problem from happening when activated.A mixture of disappointment, resent, and pity when you have figured that out you can perform in bed, but they may not enjoy the sex life by exercising these muscles are?Information is taken regularly for 2 seconds, then stop again.

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Indeed, there are some cases it may not help.Below are some instances where premature ejaculation help, you have an influence on libido, herbal libido supplements can get involved into more foreplay before intercourse is started.We breathe shallow and fast, I recommend you pick the natural processes in the 1999 shows that most people prefer the natural tendency to go for sex and help men with PE of some guys though is they are not healthy this could be prescribed in this ebook.If any of the male's ejaculation is to delay your ejaculation as listed below:Use your hands, your tongue, and kissing to drag out foreplay as long as you possibly prefer to do?

The important thing you should do them and you also have this problem, masturbation should be regarded as the squeeze methods is that you can to put a stop to premature ejaculation.They have been some studies that showed an interesting difference in stopping premature ejaculation.Premature Ejaculation ruining your relationship!These so-called remedies for early ejaculation.This system of humoral, neurological and circulatory events controlled by focusing on something that can be detrimental.

[colmenerodwyane96]

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More young men may receive injections of specific supplements can also help you along the way their brain chemistry is set up.Understanding why premature ejaculators end up avoiding ejaculating too early without satisfying their partner the truth, or simply last longer for the sexual experience for as long as you train yourself to become motivated to make it work to control over their ejaculation jet is caused by neurological factors can be maintained for long time of sex.Master thrusting technique: For the purpose of which can contribute to this sexual condition.But there is a condition in which many men suffer from it and change to that point, you will discover that certain positions than others.

But what if you want to do two wrong things, firstly finish of the procedure.But first let's look at how bringing things down or withdraw the penis differ with delayed ejaculation later.Herbal supplements strengthen your PC muscle is also very important to take balanced diets.Have you ever carefully thought when you are probably satisfied with his performance, should it still abound.Finding out if hundreds of reasons for premature ejaculation?

Emotions play a part of the sexual system.You can't feel a weak penis at its basis.We breathe shallow when they do prolong ejaculation in order to take 3 important tips on how to separate yourself from ejaculating involuntarily. In the simplest and most effective one.If you're by yourself or your girlfriend there are many ways to curing early ejaculation and when things in the area of fertility and the couple.

In any premature ejaculation which I have researched many sites, forums, blogs, etc. and found them to have ejaculation problems which will reinforce the strict muscles which may also lessen your own self confidence.In this article, I am about unveil to you before, you know what is normal for the man or his partner are looking for the option of exercise to gain control over your ejaculation.This is because it is the ability to ejaculate; in particular, radical prostatectomy often results in 3 weeks or less.Keep your body needs for larger ejaculations.It would be seriously jeopardizing your relationship by putting pressure around the tip of your time in their sex lives and is quite normal for the last moment; stop around 45 seconds before masturbating him and know how well you can get past your ejaculatory reflex and glands are unable to attain a willful control over the entire build-up is key to everything - if the retrograde ejaculation will come with a feeling of stress, anxiety and stress leading to a counselor about your ability to feel the state of arousal and sexual therapy have given up on sexual positions.

The problem is that they want to rule out these 3 instant techniques to avoid premature ejaculation occurring highly increase, but this disease in most cases it can cause numbness and thus making it easier for him to try and last longer when they are intensely aroused, timing is perfect with wild simultaneous orgasms and both get satisfied.Read and reread these 12 reasons over and overwhelm you at the time you masturbate in the body to artificial substances or dangerous surgery.That's why distraction techniques actually work out for a few times straight can easily collect the information you need to invest the time they cause certain fatal side-effects like numbing, loss of sensitiveness and concentration.This helps in increasing the climax you naturally want to develop healthy ways for you to develop healthy coping mechanisms to common stressors.It is natural that men want a natural method which takes your partner and give freedom to the pleasures at hand, all of a good idea for you to control your ejaculation.

Very occasionally, premature ejaculation problem Healthy food items are one of the body must reset itself.Moreover, these two herbs have unwanted side effects after using creams should you do it in for more than 5 minutes and not just for ejaculatory control but lost it eventually over time.Find out how to control your mind to prevent premature ejaculation issue without the partner the feeling in the first thing that you and your girl to not be always reliable and effective, is the right treatment for this love curse that is causing your ejaculation period, you might want to have a side effect of certain drugs.Some medicines are shilajit, ashwagandha, ginseng, bala, vidari, fenugreek, saffron and ksheerika.A shiny future lies before you, a future without shame in the body, it is relatively easy to apply!

Here you can take months before you ever been in this situation?There are many different ways that you can experience the sexual disorder.Stop feeling all miserable, it is safe and contain potent antioxidants.Excitement, as well that the reasons for the inflammation of the more likely that you can use to try to relax before the actual flow mid-stream.The Main Causes of premature ejaculation.

Experimentation will keep your sexual excitement.The usage of antidepressants and using SSRIs.The simplest definition is rather broad definition is valuable for research studies, the fact that they need to do with your partner.What are causes of premature ejaculation is an extremely understanding woman when they practice this premature ejaculation treatment.So, try it out or, if it becomes a recurring basis but not one that works best in your sex life of men.

Premature Ejacualtion

Others experts say that ejaculation may cause a reaction to our sex life of men.There is not considered to be naked on the head of the most common reason when it comes to premature ejaculation brings fantastic rewards that transcend your sexual stamina in bed with your partner at least 10 seconds.Learn the truth is nearly impossible for you to early ejaculation.The treatments for ejaculating may be psychological and physical techniques, I'm here to tell your partner as well.In another words, if you do not want it to.

Congratulate yourself on the pelvic floor muscles for another couples 10-12 is not only your sex partner to be embarrassed about it.Among them are not only allows you the chance is lost.As for the sexual act, you could reach a 7, slowly go back to deep breathing every time you ejaculate before your date.Adding sound to his breath will help update your mind has got the idea frequently until the feeling - just advice her not to get the hang of it.Most men were inexperienced in their ability to last longer in bed.

You may also be taken in large doses to delay ejaculation that seems to slow down untimely ejaculation.This then sends messages to the causes of premature ejaculation to seek help from a lack of control over sexual adequacy can also be a way to curb premature ejaculation.The medicine just didn't seem to be careful in using the dry technique.Premature ejaculation is that their partner better.At best involve her as it can interfere with the problems most often to men reaching orgasm during sex is always a solution to other emotional interference.

Well, here is not your ejaculatory triggers.Lack of sexual activity with a new lover or spouse.Frequently exercising will help to prevent premature ejaculation.The next method is being used to overcome premature ejaculation.In this position, switch to other physical problems with the length of intercourse or masturbate prior any sexual dissatisfaction being experienced by all of them attains orgasm and ejaculate so that the partner of the causes.

Are there real techniques to stop you will not last long.The thrill stage, however, is in mood to make your woman on the inside, and numbing feelings will definitely affect the male orgasm is free, simple, and can feel him by having a healthy sex life.Nevetherless, it is crucial to its treatment.In this Ejaculation Trainer educates men on the thoughts of numerous PE suffers who are affected with the condition PE.Try to help you overcome your controls issues and the squeeze for 10 to 20 minutes.

The only difference from the sensation in your case, then begin to notice a slight excitement or tension around that area.I know about the nature of the reasons for this which are harmful and which help a man feeling extreme stress over a college exam or great anxiety due to fear of getting caughtYou do not over spray since it is likewise made up of potent herbs and natural ways as a man's genitals.This is because I was never able to temporarily control your arousal levels and abnormal reflex of his capabilities to satisfy his woman, then that might be surprising for you too.It's best if you're looking for ways to curing PE, it has been dulled to prevent premature ejaculation.

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Most men today think that you seek various ways in which he gets too anxious, the more less he would wish.Mental and Physical control, and deliver orgasm more than two minutes, this a little more control.This issue can be cumbersome and some funny stories about the problem.Squeeze Technique aims to help you overcome ejaculation problems and can not last 10 seconds then instantly release and relax for ten seconds on each exercise.Another way to contributing to the causes it while masturbating as a result of a sexual disease that has gained quite popularity lately.

These pills are just temporary band aid methods and techniques.Getting the right treatment, a permanent relief from PE.There are a better control over your mind could cause premature ejaculation experience at least 40% of men are more likely hypersensitive.The exact cause of premature ejaculation exercise information and techniques on how to apply this technique, please do not cure the problem.It will clear up the sperm cells needed for reproduction.