#keleven

[kelevensblog]

Personal Training for Special Population (PT-SP)

If you or someone you know is looking for personalized fitness that takes into account specific health concerns or conditions, Keleven's "PT for Special Populations" certification course is a great resource. As the material presented here is based on current research and data supplied by pertinent professional groups, this training is also intended to enhance any training qualifications.

The K11 Personal Training for Special Population Certification Course is the most up-to-date and innovative course in the industry.

Keleven offers personal training services for Special Populations. Keleven's personalized approach to fitness and nutrition coaching for individuals with special conditions or specific needs. Keleven's team of certified personal trainers and nutrition coaches have experience working with a wide range of populations, including those with injuries, disabilities, chronic diseases, and other health concerns. Keleven's approach to creating customized workout and nutrition plans for each client, based on their unique needs and goals. 

If you or someone you know is looking for personalized fitness that takes into account specific health concerns or conditions, Keleven's "PT for Special Populations" certification course is a great resource. As the material presented here is based on current research and data supplied by pertinent professional groups, this training is also intended to enhance any training qualifications.

The K11 Personal Training for Special Population Certification Course is the most up-to-date and innovative course in the industry.

[uncannyprompts]

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN OFFICE - MAIN AREA - MORNING

The usual chaos of the Dunder Mifflin office unfolds as the employees go about their work. Michael Scott is nowhere to be found, and the employees are starting to wonder where their boss has disappeared to.

Coco, the quirky intern, is meticulously organizing folders with Erin. She's humming an eccentric tune to herself.

Creed, always up to something strange, is sitting at his desk, pretending to calculate, muttering random numbers to himself.

Kevin, in his ever-so-innocent state, leans over to Oscar and whispers, "I think Creed's trapped in a mind palace, Oscar. I've read about it. Like Sherlock Holmes. He's a genius!"

Stanley rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, "I don't care for 'beautiful minding.'"

Angela can't help but chime in, "Well, Oscar had a mind palace in Spain once. But that's not how mind palaces work. They're supposed to be sophisticated and orderly."

Meredith, always one to deny anything that doesn't involve alcohol, pipes up, "I've got a mind palace too. It's a goofy castle with a hot tub!"

Ryan, ever the enigmatic figure, interjects, "That's a bit bumpy, Meredith. Makes you wonder about the state of various things."

Suddenly, Michael appears at the entrance of the bull pen, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, everyone, we've got good numbers today, like really good! I've got some 46, some 99. How many numbers is that? Keleven?!"

The staff looks at each other, puzzled, as Michael walks away, leaving them with his confusion.

Jim, ever the prankster, hides small ghost figurines around the office to spook his coworkers. However, he accidentally scares himself in the process, eliciting laughter from those who witness his mishap.

Phyllis, who had briefly vanished, returns with a tray of sandwiches, playfully slapping patties in the break room.

Pam announces, "Today, the Special Things Club is having a reunion. But someone stole Kevin's spaghetti!"

Creed, with an air of mystery, starts distributing a strange concoction of drinks to the employees. "It's called microdosing, folks," he says with a wink.

Coco, the intern, suddenly has an idea. "Okay, I think Michael is ready," she says. She discreetly heads to the bell, managing to silence the horrific sound. The employees are reassured, and a sense of relief washes over them.

As Coco succeeds, Michael returns and gives a triumphant grin. "One small win for the Nard God! Tee hee hee," he exclaims before heading to his office.

Pam looks at Coco, giving her a knowing smile. "It was Pam," she confesses with a wink. "See you soon."

[jacobnetherton]

Words of wisdom for your inspiration. #theoffice #dwightschrute #kevin #keleven #dailyinspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/CBQ_pYHgUBc/?igshid=1ot17ewgpxrzg

[awwchive]

"Wake up!" https://www.reddit.com/r/aww/comments/6nkelm/wake_up/?utm_source=ifttt

[blogkeleven-blog]

Certified Personal Trainer India

[luca-moreno]

void

Luca word vomit idk

--

“You’re so fucking weird, Moreno,” one of the squad laughs as they haul on their packs.  

Earth isn’t at all what he expected.

Bootcamp isn’t either.

The hills in the distance look far away and the day is already hot. Luca feels sweat beading on the back of his neck, runs a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He used to be so pale, now his skin turns darker shades he never realized could belong to him. He hates this harsh sun, the way its rays bite into his skin like tiny needles. It’s burning him, he thinks. He’ll wake up tomorrow red and sore. How did humans survive this long, on a planet trying to kill them daily?

He flashes the others a tight grin and a shrug and tries not to show on his face how the words bother him. “Yeah, I know.”

--

The wards weren’t friendly but neither was Earth or the Alliance.

But Luca puts his head down and he works. He runs the tracks, he climbs the walls, he shoots and swears and rolls and he keeps his head down and he’s just another inductee that his barely sixteen sol years flies under the radar to their eighteen. He’s baby faced and green and alone.

Nobody notices.

--

Wide hands gripped his shoulders and a smile flashed. “It’s not that long, Luca. You just gotta survive two more years. You can do it, I know you can.”

It was hard to hear over the din of the departure lounge. Luca’s throat grew tight as something akin to panic crawled its way up his throat. “I don’t... I know if I can. Not without you.”

Kiosho grins, mismatched eyes under a messy mop of blue trimmed hair. “Sure you can. Just don’t let them give you any shit. And Luca… even if you don’t feel it, bluff. They can’t tell the fucking difference anyway.”

--

He didn’t make the two years. He barely made it to one.

Code skittered across the screen of the terminal. His heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his ears. He cracked the firewalls like they’re nothing, swooped in and manifested a whole new reality and hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

It was… and it wasn’t and it still didn’t get him what he wanted.

--

The other boy notices Luca long before Luca notices him.

And why would he? He was just another tenderfoot, another one of the crowd, another pair of boots falling into line and pounding the pavement, another body in the mess hall trying to dig their way through the slop that’s considered to be their meals. Luca listens with half an ear as the gaggle of recruits around him bitch and moan about the food, picking at it unhappily but Luca remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He never protests.

The boy slides into the seat opposite him but Luca doesn’t look up.

“It’s your accent, you know,” the other boy tells him conversationally.

It takes a long moment before Luca realizes he’s talking to him. He looks up. “What?”

“Your accent. You probably don’t even realize it, but you do this weird little burr thing with all your words. Like drell and turians do.”

Luca lowers his fork slowly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to say it now. “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I know,” the other boy smiles. He has blonde hair, and eyes the colour of earth’s skies when they’re running drills in the daylight. “Neither did I.”

It’s hardly unusual, lots of the recruits where from all over the terminus systems, most shuttled back to Earth for training. Luca holds himself short of leaning into a kindred spirit, if that’s what he even was. He takes a closer look at the boy in front of him - pale skin, long fingers, lean limbed.

His mouth clocks it before his mind does. “Spacer.”

“Yep. I’m Saxon, by the way.”

“Um. I’m… I’m Luca.”

Saxon picks something off his tray and eyes it critically. He glances around before he shrugs and pops it into his mouth. “Sure beats keleven nutripaste, huh?”

Some of the tension around his shoulders seems to ease. “Yeah, it does.”

--

There’s a lot Luca finds he likes about Saxon, and some he doesn’t.

But mostly it’s how he doesn’t feel so… alien… when he’s with him.

Music croons in the background, some old earth song Saxon had dug up from the archives and Luca strums along on the battered guitar he’d scraped all his meagre credits together to buy. Smoke curls around them, a dusty tobacco that makes Luca’s nose itch and his limbs feel weak. Don't you want to be free? Do you like girls or boys?

“So, do you?” Saxon asks one night, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. The clouds are rolling in, Luca can taste something in the air that leaves him shivering. The rooftop is his sanctuary.

“Uh, do I what?”

Saxon looms closer. “Do you like boys or girls, Luca?”

Luca’s skin prickles in awareness. In heat. “Boys,” he whispers.

Saxon’s teeth flash in the darkness, and he pulls Luca in.

--

Luca wakes up alone, head throbbing and thick with something that was once sweet now turned bitter. His body aches, sore in places that he didn’t want to acknowledge and marked with splotches that make him double take when he sees his refection in the mirror.

He runs a hand over the marks and smiles to himself.

The smile doesn’t last.

“Saxon, wait up!”

The gaggle of recruits don’t stop but Luca only focuses on one blonde head. He jogs to catch up, still calling out. “Saxon!”

Finally they stop and Luca can feel their eyes on him. “Uh. Wait, so. I just wanted to-“

“Hey, it’s the duct rat,” one of the men laugh. Barely a man, but solid enough to pass. “That’s what they call ‘em, isn’t it?”

Luca’s gaze swings to Saxon, willing him to look at him. He doesn’t.

“Sax-“

“Give it a rest, Luca,” Saxon shifts on his feet. A glance over his shoulder, a shared laugh and almost an apology but not directed at him. Luca isn’t always great with signals but he can feel the sudden unfriendly prickle in the air, the hostility.

You’re so fucking weird, Moreno.

He opens his mouth.

Saxon walk off.

--

It happens more than once.

--

It’s confusing, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through his fingers, up until it isn’t. He finds his space, amongst the twisted wires and loose threads, in the circuitry and flow of an electrical current. He always had an affinity for machines, for tech and code. There were no nuances to wade through. 

On or off, I or O. Luca always knew where he stood with his tech.

He chose a path and followed it to the end.

“Hey, Luca.”

Luca’s head snaps up. Saxon is a black shape blocking out the stars in his quiet place. He tenses as Saxon steps into the paltry ring of light thrown off his datapad and sits beside him on the threadbare rug.

“What do you want?” Luca asks flatly. His face still burns from being rebuffed. His ears still ring with the sound of their laughter.

Maybe the first time he might have been able to convince himself it didn’t mean much. A misunderstanding. A misstep. He’s had so many of those here. But by the second and the third it wasn’t possible to kid himself anymore. And Luca didn’t know what else to do, kept going back, pinging like a moth against the light. 

On or off. On. On. On.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Luc.” Saxon leans close. He smells like dried sweat and beer, smoky and apologetic as he nuzzles against Luca’s neck.

Luca tries to lean away. “What, so you suddenly remembered I exist?”

“Aw, like I could forget.”

“You tried pretty hard.” Luca tries to climb to his feet but Saxon’s hand snaps out to curl around his wrist. He grips tight.

“Luca, wait.”

“Let go, Saxon.”

“No, Luca. Come on, I’m… sorry, ok? Jesus, just… wait.”

The inside of Luca’s chest is desolate enough not to shove him away. Not yet. He hesitates, allows Saxon to draw him back down onto the rug. Stars slide overhead, a sparkle in the sky that leaves Luca homesick. He wants to curl into himself but he draws his knees up instead.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Saxon.”

“And you’re too much, Luca,” Saxon sighs. He slides closer, hands on Luca’s face. Heavy hands that Luca can’t twist away from. “You’re like a puppy trying to hump my leg whenever I turn around. You’re… loud.”

“I am not loud.”

“No, I mean,” Saxon rocks back and waves his hands over Luca, his face twisted into something pained. “This. You. Loud. You can be… suffocating.”

That stings. Luca scrambles back and Saxon lets him go. “You gotta give people a chance to breathe, Luca.”

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

Off.

--

His messages scattered to the four corners go unanswered for months. He doesn’t understand. He came all this way, sold his soul to get here and Kiosho was nowhere to be found.

Luca hunches over the terminal. Frustration squeezes his throat. He’s starting to unravel when he’s never been together in the first place.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

The sob gets stuck as he sucks in a breath. Blue eyes skim him, kind and warm and more than he probably deserves.

“Sure,” he forces out brightly. Happy face, he tells himself. Squeezes away the dampness. Don’t let them see. “Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

--

Tommorow.

[No new messages]

And so on, and so forth.

--

Sand shifts under his feet. It doesn’t do that on the Citadel. The walls might shift, but the ground was never knocked out from beneath him.

He wheezes painfully as the screams echo. Dust, that every present choking dust billows up around him and there’s pressure and pain and something wet at the back of his throat. He tries to sit up but his body won’t listen to the signals his brain sends. There’s another boom, another shower of debris and screams and Luca’s world goes dark.

--

When he wakes up, it’s to silence.

The nurses lean over him, lights shine into his eyes, their mouths move but there’s no sound. No hum of the recycled air, no rustle of leaves as the wind brushes them, no stomp of feet on the sealed paths.

Just horrifying, terrible silence and Luca’s own thoughts and the desperate, sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

He doesn’t realize he might be screaming until the prick of the needle slides through his skin.

Then he doesn’t feel much at all.

--

It takes him three months to heal his leg and adjust to his new ears. Some days are better than others and the headaches are somehow the worst part. He gets fast at signing to the OT’s and the doctor’s although they’re unimpressed at his mastery of signed curse words and not much else. For a while he’s angry but that takes too much energy and he can’t maintain it for long.

And stupidly, he waits.

The day they tell him they’re going to release him, he finally plucks up the courage to ask. “Did… did anyone visit?”

Where there any messages?

The nurse is sweet, green eyed, red hair and freckled all over her nose like stars in the black. She shakes her head, a smile that smacks too much of pity on her mouth. “No, I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh.” Luca sinks back against the pillows. “Okay.”

--

The Alliance took his hearing and replaced it with something half baked, but it’s better than the silence so he doesn’t fuss. They haul him in front of the brass where the truth comes out in incriminating shades of glowing orange and textured lines. A deep dive that wasn’t deep enough, or too deep, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your ID is fake,” they tell him and Luca wants to protest because no, not really. He’s still him. He’s still Luca, some kid from the wards, too loud, too much to hold everything that vibrates inside his bones. It had taken the ride to Earth to be noticed and then the spat in the medical wing to be diagnosed. The meds helped. For the first time Luca’s world evened out.

“Altered,” he’s brave enough to say. “Sir.”

There’s a snap of brows over the datapad. Another officer with a chest full of medals coughs nearby.

“He’s two years in on his training. He’s the legally the right age now.”

“There has to be a consequence. What he did-“

“We’re short on bodies as it is. And with what’s coming... Well, this kid was determined enough to get here all on his own. We should use that.”

All eyes turn on him. “Is that true?”

Luca swallows. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

“Why? Why not just wait until you were of age?”

“I was trying to find my brother, sir.” I was trying to find home.

“And did you? Find him?

“No, sir.” Not yet.

There’s a rolling beat of silence that has Luca’s throat feeling thick. His stomach churns.

“Verdict?”

If they send him away, he has nowhere to go. The Alliance wasn’t home, but it was a purpose.

“Let him stay, but hold back that promotion.”

--

They send him to the edges of Council space. Too human for the wards, too alien for earth. The things that made him stand out under Sol’s light become useful out here. Batarian, Turian, Drell, even Krogan, familiar to his tongue, to his hands.

He’d almost laugh about it, if it didn’t fucking hurt.

--

It’s not the glory the recruitment posters promise them. Its blood and guts and screaming and the desperate search for the quiet space in his mind to give himself a moment to just think-

But bullets spray, shields go down, the turret jams.

They die.

They save the colony, but they die.

“Did you see that?” Checo wheezes from beside him. In the distance there’s the booms of biotic explosions and the flash of figures in armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re not alliance, he knows that much. He presses down on the hole in his side and wonders why it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt, right? The bullet tore right through him and blood leaks through his fingers.

He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for this.

--

Funny how the fates shift. How time and circumstance and one insignificant little moment can set him onto a path he has no comprehension of where it will lead. One second of hesitation, one shred through his flimsy armor that knocks him down but doesn’t kill him and leads him to this.

He’s shuffled into a new squad. Sometimes he’s loud, but they’re louder and Luca doesn’t need to squeeze into the places left behind because they make room for him. Fold around him like he matters. His commander even kisses his forehead like the mother he never had never did.

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

On.

--

The reapers wipe out so much of the fleet. Names of those lost scroll endlessly over terminal screens. A memorial wall crops up in the docking bay and in the ship. Thousands and millions gone.

Two names typed into a search, one the name that had started it all, the other he wonders why.

Too much, too loud.

He was never very good at letting go.

The terminal blinks.

[Personnel unknown]

But unknown was better than dead, right?

 --

[ixylit]

Playing cyberpunk 2077, clear out an entire building to the top floor, finish the side job. Go back to the street and call my vehicle and I just watch as my motorcycle flies through the air to the top of the building and slowly see the icon make its way back down to the street next to me

Keleven/10 would play again

[duchessscloverly]

This book is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Dwight being Assistant TO the Line Leader. Andy and his bowtie. Oscar very concerned that he’s not going to learn Math. Keleven!! 

[poonietoons]

everybody is going to get to know each other in the pot. . . . #KevinsFamousChili #kevinmalone #anchochilis #undercookedonions #pressedgarlic #wholetomatoes #theoffice #🥘 #poonieart #sketch #characterdesign #keleven

[kelevensblog]

HUMAN PERFORMANCE NUTRITION (HPN)

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It examines human physiology as it relates to the digestion and metabolism of food; fundamental molecular biology and biochemistry as they relate to food (macro and micronutrients); their conversion into energy and structural compounds; and their relationship to bio-energetics and body composition.

Fitness Professionals with knowledge of both nutrition and exercise have complete control over the results. It is a fact that exercise is ineffective in producing results if it is not accompanied by a healthy diet. Once both Exercise Science and Performance Nutrition knowledge bases are applied, client results are assured, and the logical conclusion is a thriving practice and a dual source of income for Fitness Professionals. Regardless of the individual's objective, body composition, metabolism, mentality, or specific fitness requirement, the diet prescribed must always support muscle hypertrophy, fat loss, and optimal sustained energy. The Human Performance Nutrition (HPN) Certification Course will teach you how to design and prescribe diets that accomplish all of these goals.

The K11 Human Performance Nutrition (HPN) Certification Course is the industry's most current and cutting-edge course.

For More Information Visit Our Website: https://www.keleven.com/dietician-and-nutritionist-course

#keleven #k11 #diploma #fitness #personaltrainning #trainning #acadamy #fitnessacadamy #course #certificate #human #resorce #nutritions

[uncannyprompts]

The Office - 4D Paper

[INTRO - Dunder Mifflin Scranton Office, morning]

The office is abuzz with energy. Pam is at her desk, typing on her computer, while Jim pulls off a classic prank on Dwight involving a stapler in Jello. Meanwhile, Dwight is busy sharpening his pencils into weapons. Michael enters the scene, looking unusually serious.

Michael: (Excitedly) "Listen up, everybody! Corporate has dropped a bombshell on us. They want us to create 4D paper! Brainquake time, people!"

[Cut to the break room where the employees gather]

Stanley: (Sarcastically) "Oh, great. Just what I needed, more dimensions in my life."

[Cut to the bullpen, Angela is busy feeding her cats while Oscar rolls his eyes.]

Oscar: (Mockingly) "4D paper, huh? What's next, 5D coffee?"

[Cut to Kevin, who's surprisingly focused]

Kevin: (Proudly) "Guys, I've got it! Keleven!"

[Everyone stares at Kevin in disbelief]

Dwight: (Whispering to Jim) "I've been telling him it's not real for years."

[Meanwhile, in the annex, Ryan is working on his latest startup idea while Kelly is trying to get his attention.]

Kelly: (Excitedly) "Ryan! Forget your app! This is the real deal! We're talking 4D paper!"

Ryan: (Rolling his eyes) "Kelly, 4D paper is so 2019."

[Cut to the conference room, where Creed is scribbling equations on a whiteboard.]

Creed: (Mumbling to himself) "4D paper, the key to interdimensional wormhole travel..."

[Back at Michael's office, Pam enters with a concerned look]

Pam: (Worried) "Michael, we need to talk about Coco. The FBI is here to question her about those missing babies."

[Cut to Coco being interrogated by the FBI agents]

FBI Agent: (Sternly) "Where are the babies, Coco?"

Coco: (Nervously) "I told you, I don't know anything about it!"

[Back in the bullpen, the employees brainstorm]

Jim: (Inspired) "What if we combine the theories of relativity and quantum mechanics?"

[They start scribbling equations on a whiteboard, and suddenly, something miraculous happens.]

Pam: (Excited) "Look! We've done it! The first piece of 4D paper!"

[The entire office erupts in celebration. Meanwhile, Coco is led away in handcuffs.]

[Cut to the end of the day, Neil Degrasse Tyson and Bill Nye enter the office, kissing everyone in celebration.]

Neil Degrasse Tyson: (Ecstatic) "Congratulations, you've done it! The 4D paper is a game-changer!"

Bill Nye: (Enthusiastic) "Corporate is going to be thrilled!"

[Cut to Michael, who's standing awkwardly in a red room, convulsing as waves of data transfer into a pulsating flesh cube.]

Michael: (Confused) "I don't remember this being in the job description..."

[The episode ends with a cliffhanger, leaving the fate of Michael and the implications of 4D paper uncertain.]

[END CREDITS]

[trendingfunnygifs]

Wake up! via @ http://www.liveinfographic.com/ Keleven July 16, 2017 at 09:56AM

[popcosmicsflyingcircus]

The United States Of Kevin flag. Please note that Kevin only recognizes Keleven states.

[keleven-fitness]

Fitness Courses in India: Keleven is India's foremost educational institution in the field of fitness sciences.

[blogkeleven-blog]

Certified Fitness Trainer

[luca-moreno]

☀

(adjlajsd sorry) +++

On some level, in the periphery of his brain, Luca is 99.98% sure he’s going to regret sneakily sampling some of Thompson’s mindfish during the last poker night. It’s been years and whatever tolerance he had built up to it as a kid in the wards is long gone by now.

Fifteen hours later, and the edges of his world still seem kind of hazy, the colours all muted and pink tinged and slow like he’s trying to wade through the inside of a hanar. He’s trying to grope his way back to his quarters when his stomach reminds him he hasn’t eaten since Davis dared him to eat bunches of lightly fried keleven before her timer buzzed (he won, but at great cost) and he definitely doesn’t like to think about the asari cocktail Ryan nudged towards him. Sure, the pilot didn’t exactly force Luca to drink it, but surely there’s some kind of mentor/mentee line he crossed there, right? Luca has a sketchy memory of pale hands sliding him a glowing drink and the way it had burned sliding down his throat. “Hide the ferns!” Harris had shrieked somewhere and even Isaac had looked more concerned than usual when Eva had to wrestle the last of the snacks out of his hands before he promptly passed out somewhere on the floor.

Luca groans inwardly and shuffles into the mess, lamenting the errors of his ways and filled with regret. He’s halfway across the room when the tingle reaches him. Later he’ll blame it on the mindfish hangover, and not at all because every single functioning brain cell he has seems to scatter every time he happens to be in the same room as him.

Oh, Luca blinks dazedly. There he is.

The vanguard is barefoot again. A blank tank top and sweatpants low on his hips, the muscles and patterns on his skin gleaming in the artificial light of the galley. He stands at the counter with his back to Luca and Luca finds himself drawn in like a moth to a flame. He swears to himself he’s just going to look and admire and definitely not touch, nope. Just look, because there’s a multitude of stories in every scar, every trace of ink across that pale brown skin and Luca kinda, sorta wants to know them all.

He drifts closer and the one small, still functioning part of his brain warns that maybe he shouldn’t be trying to sneak up on a phoenix, but the rest knows that it would be impossible anyway.

It takes him far, far too long to realize he’s suddenly plastered himself against the phoenix’s back, arms wrapped around lean corded muscle, idly rubbing one cheek against the augmented skin of his shoulder. He’s so warm it’s like hugging sunshine and that’s one of the only things Luca misses about his days on Earth. The warmth seeping through his skin, soaking into his bones in a way the artificial warmth of the wards never could.

Space is cold but being alone is colder.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he mumbles and there’s a full five seconds of silence before the body he’s curled around vibrates with something he hopes is a laugh and not anything more violent. Luca’s eyes snap open and he jumps back, half flailing. “Uh. On this ship. I mean, like… In general… I’m really glad you’re on this ship, because you’re… uh, I’m just… oh, no-“

It’s not as humiliating as sticking a tongue in his ear in a misguided kiss, but its close.