#The Executioners Toolkit

[theexecutionerstoolkit]

The Bed You Lie In

So the bed you lie in. the one you made. The one you will sleep in tonight. The on and on of it. The loop, the repeat. What you do for maybe 8 hours everyday. It’s a big part of the day, of your life, of you. How you sleep. 

Bad bed? Bad sleep. Bad bed? Bad back. Bad sleep? Bad back? Bad  day. A vicious cycle of sleep and decay.  

I know that with a good amount of sleep I function much better. I’m less inclined to be grumpy or weepy, those two ugly dwarves. Plus with a good sleep I occasionally get to be almost happy. That’s another dwarf there. All my dwarf emotions. Facets of the ego.  How does Snow White, that known associate of dwarves feature? I’m not sure.

The point though is that without a good sleep I am not the best of dwarves. (I might have taken that too far). Without an adequate amount of lying down I am not my best self. And when awake I’m not able to reach any form of mythical optimum. So there it is, a good bed is one of the best things you can do for your day.

Most of the rest of the time I’m at work and that means sitting down. In my chair at my desk. I sit most of the day. Hunched over and trying to make sense of the ordinary and extraordinary information that is present on that tiny screen. I see nothing else and I notice nothing else. My eyes are thus engaged and the rest of my senses and body are fairly disconnected. There's coffee and a bit of lunch but not very much else. Just like the bed the wrong chair is going to turn sitting into a health hazard. Sitting and as a result work becomes even worse for your health. Any pain and my mental health deteriorates. So it’s important to get the sitting right too. It’s eight hours of the same after all. And that’s us. Sleeping and sitting.

What else do I do everyday that maybe I could do better?

Lounging.

After work I need to relax. Which is a bit more sitting or lying on the sofa. It’s a great piece of furniture, the sofa, because with this equipment you can do either or both at the same time. I do that a lot! In the evening after a night and a day of the deliberate practice of the two halves, sitting and lying, comes the lounging. If there wasn’t so much competition I could lounge for England.  But it’s  a national pastime. The road is long and the competition fierce. Everyone's trying to get there. It's something many of us can only achieve in our senior years. Just before that much longer lie-down.

The problem with all of this not moving is that slowly over time, the months and the years, poor health begins to creep in. The spectre of sickness and death begin to loom. My life's work of lounging will be cut short before I reach perfection. No MBE for me.

 I’ve got to add a bit of moving around into my day otherwise the basic muscles I need for a decent lounge are just not going to be strong enough. And as I said for most of us illness and poor health are a slow encroachment that stillness only allows to get closer. You have to move to keep ahead. The easiest way to do this is something called walking. I know it’s damn time consuming so if you want to get away with doing less I’d suggest running. Apparently this hideous form of exercise is efficient and means you can finish your walk that much faster. Plus you get further away from poor health and sickness. Think about it. Of course you might run into them coming the other way round. So running, for me, is too risky.

Recently I read this tale of a man who died in his 90’s who drank, smoked and ate exactly what he wanted. Those stories abound and I’m sure you have heard them too. In fact you might even know someone who has lived life like that. My aunt is a great example. She’s in her 90’s and until recently ate and drank as she pleased. The secret, apparently for both this man and my aunt, was in movement. Neither of them had cars and both of them walked to wherever they were going as much as possible. Block after block everyday. Miles and miles. And it worked. So walking, there may be something in it after all. It might be a secret to successful lounging. It does sound challenging though.

Therefore shoes are on the list.

Of course there are those other things, Healthy eating, mental stimulation, socialising etc but those are for professionals.

If you want to fix, improve, optimise your life, focus on the bed, the chair, the shoes. Get these right and you have a distinct advantage over everyone who doesn't..

I know it’s not the bed, the chair, or the shoes. It's sleeping, sitting, and walking.

If you are not sleeping, or lounging, then mainly you are about your work. It’s like the bed you lie in, it’s something you do for most of your life.

So maybe that's something to think about too?

Dream jobs, true callings.

If investing in a good bed seems to be sensible? And investing in a good chair seems like a good idea? Then maybe investing some time in good work might be equally sensible?

I’m not proposing you need to find your dream job. Or that you need to find your passion. True callings, that’s not me.

I won't wait. I don’t want to choose or be chosen. I’d rather not leave my fate and happiness to the obscure and ultimate, to external agents. That includes work. I won't leave things to the off chance that there is one true job.

Instead if I can take control of how I work then happiness and progress must follow. That may not be the progress of career heaven or an escape from drudgery. So, yes, there's a  sort of Zen here. Chop wood, carry water. But it does make the challenge much easier, finding what satisfies and stimulates in what I’m doing in the here and now.

And with work, when you can improve the commitment and effort you bring to the job then the job improves around you. And so does the quality of your lounging. Less residual stress, better satisfaction. Realisation.

#The Executioners Toolkit #Bed #a better life #Shoes #Chair

[writingsbychlo]

put her together again (prologue)

word count; 2398

summary; while in the field, mitch encounters a hostile force who almost takes him out, and accidentally finds himself tangled up in something far more advanced than he’d ever imagined.

notes; this is the prologue to a new series, and it’s a pretty dark one. there will also be a lot of triggering themes, so watch out for that!

warnings; violence, slight gore, reference to torture, death, reference to mental & emotions abuse, possible suicidal references, reference to self harm, reference to branding, reference to brainwashing & manipulation.

Mitch would be dead, if it hadn't been for the quick thinking of Stan. Another agent in the field was unexpected, a target that had training that far exceeded his own, he really stood no chance. Up against him or Stan, even both of them together, she would have come out on top. 

Whoever the girl was, she was one hell of a fighter. 

With his hands on his knees, he lifted one to brush at his forehead, wincing at the blood along his hairline as the cut stung, and he wiped the back of his hand across it, red smearing his skin and the cool air sweeping across it for only a second, before he was feeling blood begin to build up along the gash once again. With a sigh, he searched around for his gun, one that had been knocked from his hand only a minute into the fight, and he located it sitting under some knocked over tables in front of a little street coffee shop. The roads were empty now, not even the honking of horns or screaming of civilians, the man you’d been protecting having achieved in his mission of setting off a bomb, and he glared at you as he clicked the safety off and checked it to be loaded. 

Holding up the weapon, he aimed it at your head, feeling zero remorse as he closed his finger over the trigger, squeezing down and releasing the bullet, only a second after fingers had wrapped around his own and jolted his aim to the side, the metal pinging off of the cobblestone walkway as it cracked the tile it landed on, clattering away across the quarter. 

With a growl, he spun to face the man, his mentor fixing him with an equally stern and hard gaze as it had always been, especially in the first few weeks that he’d been in his training, all that time ago. “She helped kill people today, Stan. She was going to kill us.”

“We aren’t executioners. We take her back with us, we get information out of her.” He snatched his hand back from the man, grunting an agreement before clicking it back to safety and tucking the device into the back of his pants. “You know as well as I do that she was a hired gun. She was protecting him, so much so that she was willing to die at your hand to let him get away. I want to know who hired her, she’s our lead.”

He knew it made sense, it was perfectly logical, but he hated the way you were cooperative in this, he hated that the woman at his feet had allowed such things to happen, and he fought hard to suppress the wild anger he had worked so hard to learn to contain and control back down. Instead, he spat out the blood in his mouth with a grimace, stepping over you to walk back towards the car and making sure to drag his foot across your body to plant a rough kick into your ribs, not that you reacted in your unconscious state, but it made him feel a little better. 

Instead, he did as he was told, opening the trunk of the car and fishing around in the toolkit for the duct tape before making room to stuff you inside a minute or two from now, and he looked at the bullet holes along the side of the vehicle, rolling his eyes with an angry huff. He wasn’t exactly gentle, your arms behind you back and sealed up tightly before attaching you ankles together too, and sealing one over your mouth for good measure, should you wake up on the journey to the safe house. 

By the time he had you loaded into the back of the car and fastened in, Stan was already sitting in the driver’s seat, the engine running as he waited, and the second he was within the car, it was starting up and peeling away from the scene, calling Irene to explain the situation. He didn’t bother to listen in, barely perking up to add his input, before he was resting his head back against the window, the adrenaline coming down and revealing to him just how much his body ached all over. 

He was sore and covered in cuts and bruises, he could already feel it under his clothes, every rub of the fabric against somewhere that was pained, and he couldn't wait to get into the shower, dismissing Irene alongside Hurley from the second they’d arrived at the isolated little home. You were still unconscious when he opened the back of the car up, much to his relief because he knew wasn’t feeling like starting another fight as you resisted, and slung your body over his shoulder to carry you inside, taking the tape with him. Stan had a chair set up, in the middle of the room read for you, and he tossed Stan the roll of tape once you were slumped into it, before making a beeline to the bathroom and calling the first shower.

He barely hesitated, only pausing to grab a change of clothes from his bag, before finding himself switching on the hot water, and peeling his clothes off of his body, stepping under before steam has even begun to fog the mirrors. A groan bubbled up from him before he could stop it, sounding out in the bathroom as the tension immediately soothed just from the hot water, body practically melting into the tub as he eased himself of the aches, and he had to force himself not to fall asleep in the comfortable heat and relaxation. 

Instead, he busied himself with scrubbing down; blood, dirt and grime washing away into the drain as he watched it go, scrubbing a hand through his hair and the colour only darkened as it washed away. The cuts would sting each time he got soap or hot water within them, but once the runoff was going clear instead of red and grey, he was beginning to see where he was grazed and cut, and where he was simply beginning to bruise. He knew he couldn't stay too long, using up all the hot water before Stan had a chance to get in, and as tempted as he was in the will for amusement purposes to leave the older man to shower in the freezing cold, he wasn’t that cruel.

He towelled himself down, and pulled on his boxers, finding the cream from bruises and ointment for his cuts, making sure to take care of himself and place gauze over the worse once, before finally pulling on sweats and a fresh t-shirt, scrubbing at the longer strands of his hair and making a note to get another haircut, before stepping back out into the main room. 

“Leave me some hot water?” He smirked, the thought he’d once had flashing across his mind once again, but he nodded as Stan scooped up a towel and change of clothing for himself. “Good, I won’t be as long as you were, princess, but if she wakes up while I’m in there, just knock on the door.”

He sneered in the older man’s direction, but let him go, and the door closed, leaving him alone with the woman in the chair. He was certain Stan would have already followed all of the formalities, but he decided it wouldn't hurt for him to check you over himself, and so he made sure to pat you down with what he could reach, checking for anything that you could use to escape or fight back. He even checked your hands, and under your tongue, no hidden razor blades or sharp objects, and he eventually deemed you to be okay. Pulling up his one chair, he set it backwards, straddling the seat and resting his arms over it, balancing his chin atop them, before staring at you intently. 

He didn’t like you, but you were a mystery. No matter how many time she had insulted you or goaded you, you’d never once spoken back. You didn’t fall for the temptation to lash out with words like every other person he’d fought had, and you didn’t have the same sinister flash of pure evil in your eyes that he was s used to seeing. There was no hatred, malice or anger when you fought, only determination, but your eyes had been blank as you worked, as though you were simply working, nothing in the situation being of any gain to you.

Stan came out of the bathroom, steam curling out of the doorway as he did, and Mitch turned to offer him a quick look, catching the raised brow he received in response, and letting his thoughts flow freely from him.

“Don’t you think she’s a little odd?”

“What do you mean?” Stan was leaning on the edge of the counter that connected them to the kitchen, and he rubbed a hand over his mouth, before crossing his arms. 

“She didn’t react. I looked into her eyes, there was nothing. Nothing. No anger or hate or pure joy at killing, it was like there was nobody in there. A robot, not a person. It was more terrifying than facing someone who took pleasure in killing.” He sighed, both of them snapping up to look at your from the first twitch of your leg, a foot sounding out across the carpet. 

“Guess we’re about to get some answers. Maybe that’ll put you at ease.”

He huffed doubting it would do anything other than anger him further, but your eyes were opening to look at them both. He expected fear, a sudden jolt as you tried to free yourself, looking around for escape exits and a way to get free. Maybe some glaring, growling out curses under the tape and making a show of trying to seem defensive, but you didn’t.

Instead, you took a single deep breath, keeping your gaze fixed on the carpet before you as your hands flexed out behind your back, cracking your knuckles and stretching your muscles, but then falling flat, and you almost seemed o relax into the chair, slumping your body weight over it but wincing when you pressed against something that must’ve hurt. 

He shared a look with Stan, his confusion only growing, but Stan shrugged a little, before flipping out the blade on his pocketknife, and moving towards you, the scare tactics beginning, but you never even flinched. Not when he peeled the tape from your mouth, not when he pressed the blade to your shoulder with the threat of pushing it through. Threats didn’t work, shouting didn’t work, it didn’t even work when Mitch had filled the tub with cold water and held you over it in a threat of dropping you within, and still, you were unmoving. 

They had thought through every option they could to get their answers, without ever physically harming you, and do Stan had decided to resort to mind games. He filled up a glass of water at the sink upon watching you swallow down thickly on what he assumed to be a dry throat for the fourth time within the last minute, and he made sure to make a show of preparing it. He clinked a spoon against the edge of the glass once, taking his time in preparing it, before bringing it out to you and offering it up to your lips, an almost friendly smile on his lips. 

You leaned in, taking a large gulp of the water without hesitation, drinking down almost half of the glass, much to both of their surprises, and his eyes widened when Mitch turned to him.

“She didn’t even smell it for traces, or taste test. She doesn’t care.”

They were just regrouping for a discussion when you finally spoke up, the sharp intake of breath making their heads snap back toward you, and your eyes were glued on Mitch’s own, a cold and empty gaze that sent a shover rocking along his spine, and goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Units must not return without assignment success.” His brows furrowed, jaw dropping a little as he turned to face you more fully, and he frowned when you didn’t speak up again, but he gave you a chance, your tongue flicking out to lick over a busted lip as you tried to clear your throat. “Termination in the field, or termination at base. You must terminate the unit.”

“Oh, fucking hell.”

“What? This gibberish mean something to you?” When he looked back at his superior, the man was a little paler, eyes wide like saucers and jaw hanging wide, and Mitch had never seen this look on a man’s face before. “Hurley?”

Instead of responding, he moved to crouch in front of you, holding your gaze intently. “What is the name of your company?”

“Unit cannot comply with your request.”

He let out a ragged sigh, flicking out the blade once again and Mitch got to his feet quickly, fearing that Stan may actually gut you like a fish in his anger, but he circled behind you, cutting away the material of your shirt around your neck and letting out a loud shout at what he found. Stumbling over his own feet to get a look, he found a tattoo, branded into your skin with a symbol he didn’t recognise, but it would seem Stan did.

“I heard rumours from the higher-ups, notes on previous cases as eye witness results, but it always just seemed like a myth.” He seemed almost shocked, and Mitch has no idea what was going on, but he felt like he was drowning in the thoughts flying through his mind, his head pounding with all the new information he was processing. 

“Does that mean something?”

“Yeah, it does.” 

“And what are we supposed to do with her, then?” Stan let out a groan, and you shifted a little when the seat jolted as the older man kicked at the chair leg angrily, but you never looked back at them, your expression never shifting from the same haunting emptiness you’d held continually since he’d first laid eyes on you.

“Call Irene, tell her we have a Nocturnus agent in play, and that she’s alive.”

#mitch rapp #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp x reader #mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch month #mitch rapp american assassin #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien fic

[barbecuedphoenix]

In the last oneshot/drabble you posted (which was very interesting and fun to read) you mentioned "Nevra fighting his dark instinct", do you have any headcanons on how he fights it during a long mission where he doesn't really have a variety of choices and his everyday life

As a matter of fact, I’ve got plenty of headcanons on Nevra livinglife as a vampire. ;) He’s not just a gorgeous man with pointy teeth and Spock-worthyears. So thanks for bringing this to my inbox, Anon.

Though technically, that lastrequest is a scenario: a really unrefined draft of a one-shot without properdialogue, action sequence, or description. But your thoughts are well and truly appreciated.^_^

(For anyone interested in reading that particular request, check it outhere. Warning: it’s shamelessly NSFW. Don’t take a cue from the characters andtry reading it in public.)  

Anyway. To answer your question, Anon, I like to imagine that Eldaryavampires still retain a few traits of traditional vampires from folklore… andthat there’s a valid reason for why they were feared by humans (and possibly more) back in the day.While Nevra has naturalized himself (very successfully) to El’s non-vampirecommunity, I won’t be surprised if it’s still an ongoing battle for him tooverride millions of years of evolution. And if so, he probably hopes in one corner of his psyche that his fans at HQ remain oblivious to some of hismost basic urges. Otherwise, where will he get his love?

…Because some of his most basic urges outside the bedroom aren’t very sexy by non-vampire standards.Thank you.  

Warning: What you’re about toread is at least 99% pure headcanon. Sadly, we still know zilch about the pure vampirelifestyle in El. :(

The Lure of Blood

To the average vampire, fresh blood sparks a powerful visceral reactionacross several levels: it stokes their appetite as a food source, fires theirlibido as a medium for sexual communion, and magnifies their senses as abiological meter for their own health and those around them– either friend,foe, or prey. If willingly provided by a clan-member or a longtime donor, thetaste of blood also fosters deep comfort and a sense of ‘home’. But if spilledfrom an enemy, a quarry, or themselves when they’re wounded, then the smell ofblood alone can trigger a berserker-worthy adrenaline rush. All this is theresult of millions of years of highly-specialized evolution, where blood advancedbeyond simple ‘food source’ to also become a medium for social affirmation, anda complex physical, sensory, and chemical language shared between predator, prey, and kin.

Not surprisingly, vampires encounter friction from other species who a.)don’t share the same evolutionary toolkit with blood, b.) keep culturallynarrow views on blood, and c.) have even less tolerance for blood-feeding (whichsome of them, understandably, still associate with being preyed on). Thiscultural clash is why vampires outside their clans typically avoid the medical,culinary, and military/mercenary professions, where blood contact happensfrequently and nervous non-vampires panic at seeing their eyes dilate at thefirst flash of red.  

None of this has discouraged Nevra though from joining the Shadow Guardof El, where spilled blood is an unfortunate but necessary feature of fieldwork. The main reason: he has a steely confidence in his own self-control, anarguably-stronger loyalty to El… and no small amount of pragmatism in adjustingor smoothing over his ancestral instincts whenever they flare to life. Afterall, he cares about winning his colleagues’ trust, even if– a few eons back–he would have called them his ‘dinner’ in a very literal sense. So he follows aset of strict personal protocols, starting with…

Rule #1: Stay Neat onthe Field

It’s not just because Nevra is vain about his appearance; reducing bloodcontact on the field helps minimize the risk of losing his focus.

Because if he smells a fatal or near-fatal volume of fresh blood concentrated in onearea, at close quarters, and in a hostile situation away from home, he’s hit by amassive adrenaline spike: his already-keen reaction times sharpen, his physicalstrength and speed double, and his immunity to pain stiffens into a veritablelayer of armor over his skin. The world– to him– suddenly becomes six timesmore vivid across all senses, with the passage of seconds seeming to stretchinto minutes. This might seem like a boon for a field agent– and Nevra infact has tapped into this adrenaline spike to close in on a frustrating target or escapelife-threatening situations– but it comes at the cost of abandoning allcaution to the wind: his ability to restrain himself and move tactically arereduced (if not temporarily suspended). And once his adrenaline spike ebbs, hemight physically collapse after spending all his bodily reserves. Worse still,receiving cuts and smelling his own blood actually increases his aggression and fighting resolve, instead of promotingthe instinct to escape. Thus, too much blood exposure in combat will actuallymake this vampire more bestial than cunning, more a berserker than anassassin… and more dead than a hero.

This is why Nevra avoids open battlefields: instead listening to thesounds of battle, and sniffing out blood at range to detect and circumvent thereal slaughter zones. (Then let someone much less reactive, like Valkyon, enterto clean up instead.) He also applies a healthy amount of stealth and guerillatactics to tip the scales in his favor, and thus end a confrontation quickly(or at least, leave himself openings to escape the fray if it becomes too messy).Especially for someone like him, there’s a time limit to how long he can remainin a skirmish. But if direct combat is inevitable, he resorts to daggers only if heneeds to attack at range and/or subdue a very dangerous foe, otherwise takingthem down with bloodless judo(style) kicks, joint locks (or snaps), and whisper-silentnerve strikes.

It’s no light matter for him to whip out the daggers. When he does, he knows he has tofollow…

Rule #2: Be a Gentlemanwith Your Knife

The easiest solution to avoid the vampire blood-frenzy is to not spill blood in a fray. Right?

Well in Nevra’s book, the answer isn’t quite so simple: a sharp knife ismore precise, more concealable, and more merciful than a heavy bludgeoninginstrument. Also, heavier fights can be averted by a little psychologicalmeddling… like smiling at them when holding a dagger at their throat. Few thingsunnerve non-vampires more than spilling blood in front of a piqued vampire onfull sensory alert. They don’t knowhis steely restraint over himself; they can only assume that there’s realpredatory intent in the gleam of his eye, the flaring of his nostrils, and theway he sometimes licks his lips at them, flashing the points of his fangs thatmight just be sharper than that blade.  

But. On the occasions whenhe does have to use the knife, Nevra stillabides by a code of conduct bred into his bones by his own people, and temperedfurther by (many) years of training: respect your prey and don’t allow them tosuffer for long. Kill with as few strikes as possible, as cleanly as possible.And when it’s done, leave the body in peace as soon as you can. Beneath themoral rhetoric though, this practice helps to minimize the gore on thebattlefield that will trigger the infamous blood-frenzies, and automaticallydistances the executioner from what blood continues to flow from the fatalwound. As well as from vindictive enemy clan-members, who’ll come flying in atsmelling the death of their kin on the wind.

There is a very realevolutionary benefit with being able to scent blood from over a quarter mileaway: it’s to be able to track your quarry, or find your clan members who’re indire need of your help. And if Nevra does find a ‘clan’ member (i.e. any of hiscolleagues in El) who’s missing a few scraps of skin at least, he knows he hasto adhere to…

Rule #3: Be Discreet inTouching the Wounded  

Contrary to popular belief, the sight of a fresh wound does not arouse vampires all the time; themethod of skin penetration makes all the difference to the vampire brain. So ifNevra spies telltale toothmarks– or needle-like marks, at least– on the skin,he instinctively grows both hungry and aroused. (After all, this is the vampireequivalent of watching someone walk out of the bedroom, sans underwear.) But if something else has broken the skin– leaving aninjury–, a sense of distress pulls him hard to port instead, all sexual and feedinginstincts automatically capped by an urge to help: in other words, he reactslike any other sentient species does when encountering the wounded.

To most vampires, the difference between a fresh wound from a bite and afresh wound from a knife is as stark as the difference between a naked andaroused person, and a naked and terrified person. And it’s just as lurid asight. Even under his dismay and his overriding drive to help, Nevra won’t beable to help feeling acutely conscious of the victim’s body, what with thesmell of fresh blood lying thick on his palate and already waking his salivaryglands, his senses automatically piqued and tingling on high alert.

Still, it’s a matter of honor not to even stare. So when treating a fresh wound, he wills himself to enter a detached,clinical state of mind, focusing on only the depth of the wound, its chances ofinfection or contamination by poison, the chances of recovery, and especiallywhat pain it’s currently causing the victim. And he’ll minimize direct skincontact with their blood out of respect, then wash his hands afterwards: bloodin this case can’t be treated as a sexual communion, no more than a surgeon canlust after a patient on their operating table. Doing otherwise would be a gross impropriety. If amongother vampires though, Nevra might do a clinical smell of the bloodsample to check for signs of poison, disease, and so forth; that’ll be the limitof his direct contact.

Notall blood that’s spilled by the body is harmful, per se. So when Nevra catchesthat telltale tang of iron in the air athome, he knows he has to follow…

Rule #4: Watch Your StepWhen Blood is Spilled at Home

Back in the clan, blood is spilled in small increments on a regularbasis: it’s equal parts social exchange, sexual exchange, health check, andsnack. The usual shenanigans of a sociable house. So it took Nevra a short, butsobering period of adjustment in his early days in El to realize that blood spilledin a non-vampire home might mean somethingmore serious. And then he realized a new level to his parental instincts:now every snatch of blood he smells at HQ carries at least a 50% chance of trouble,far higher than it ever was where he grew up.

Still, he can’t afford to knock down doors to investigate, not withoutseriously alarming– and potentially embarrassing– his colleagues (who have noidea how he knows they’re bleeding, from across HQ). Instead,he has to play the off-duty detective whenever his infamous nose is triggered,stepping carefully between inquiry and eavesdropping.

Nevra has already learnt to give the infirmary a wide berth whenever he scents blood coming from thatvicinity; blood is to be expected there, and it’s under Ewelein’s jurisdiction. The line isn’t quite so clear though whenever thatsmell emanates from the barracks or showers. Fortunately, this is where being aspymaster comes in handy: it’s never too hard to get the ‘unofficial’ healthrecords he needs. (Gossip, when enough is collected from many sources, saysplenty.) And in case he needs to confirm a few murky facts for himself, he’llmake a series of ‘casual’ strolls through the area to pinpoint the precisesource of the smell (which he won’t mention to anyone just yet). If he traces it to a female recruit’sdoor or shower stall, and listens in to find the occupant isn’t under any particulardistress– or might even be enjoying the company of a first-time partner–,then he keeps walking. Maybe with a ghost of a smile.

One of the consequences ofhaving a vampire’s sense of smell is that feminine biology has given up itssecrets to Nevra long ago. He’s fine with it.

None of the vampire folklore I’ve found mentions anything about why they need blood/qi/life-force/etc., beyond the catch-all explanation that it’s because the undead don’t quite like being dead. (And that biting the neck is a disturbing way to combine sex with death.) 

So I jumped off in a different direction entirely: what evolutionary benefits might a taste for blood offer, for a live species that enjoys necking each other?

…All right, I might have gone overboard again with spinning vampire headcanons. That’s bio-anthropology for you. :/

(Though if you’re interested in reading aboutthe more romantic side to blood-drinking, check out the equally-overboard analysis/headcanon forNevra here.)

Regardless, please read, enjoy (hopefully), and review. Any and allfeedback is appreciated. :)

#Eldarya #request #headcanon #Nevra

[commander-of-the-week]

Commander’s Toolkit

Unsung Heroes 

Below are some cards that have some pretty cool abilities that I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use, but me. It could be because their mana costs are too high or they’re a bit too niche maybe, but here they are anyway. 

1. Repay in Kind 

I’ve managed to win or come close to winning with this a couple of times, it’s a great way of just closing out one of those games. We’ve all had one, where someone has a Trostani deck or has just managed to get a Gary onto the battlefield and become healthy again. Laugh in their face as their life total drops to an all time low.

2. Tainted Remedy 

As good as this card is, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else use it or even heard it mentioned. it’s so good for obvious reasons. I suppose in some decks, commander damage does render it useless.

3. Dispatch 

Considering all prevalence of mana rocks and other artifact utilities in commander, as well as Exile being a staple. I’m surprised I don’t see this one more often. 

4. Nightmare Incursion 

I love cards like this, making sure certain things can never be played is just wonderful. I occasionally see Praetor’s Grasp, but that’s the closest to this card I think I’ve ever seen. This card goes really well with Urborg, Tomb of Yawgmoth by the way. 

5. Grand Abolisher 

I don’t see this guy around much anymore. his ability to shut down all responses during your turn even your end step is just a god send. he’s really cheap too. 

6. Merciless Executioner 

This is Fleshbag Marauder’s less popular brother, he is almost the same. But I never see him being used despite having redundancy. I would say having multiple ways to potentially get rid of indestructible permanents is always useful. 

7. Hallowed Moonlight/Containment Priest

The prevalence of reanimator and cheaty decks makes me surprised that I don’t see this pair very often as they can really wipe a smile of someone who’s just played a Rise of the Dark Realms or Genesis Wave.

8. Reiterate 

I don’t see this card very often, and it’s horrible. a copy spell that can be recurred with buyback has some unpleasant applications. 

9. Malignus 

I haven’t seen this guy since he was released back in avacyn restored. I think he’s really great, I must admit though I don’t use him much myself. He enters with half the highest life total and his damage can’t be prevented. Give this guy a Fireshrieker or a Furnace of Rath and you’re laughing. 

10. Hedonist’s Trove 

Although this is quite expensive, I think it has some interesting applications later on in the game, being able to deprive someone of their graveyard and then use cards from it is just great in my opinion.

I realize now that these aren’t very diverse. mostly in black or white. I also don’t speak for everyone when I say that people don’t use these enough, I just haven’t seen these cards in the metas that I have been part of. 

#edh #Commander's Toolkit #wintersheart91 #mtg #magic the gathering #card games #commander-of-the-week #commander #Commander of the week #edh deck #CMDR #master of edh

[gvillalta99]

"The Executioner's Tale" Christina Wodtke-Interaction14 from Interaction Design Association on Vimeo.

Ideas are cheap. Execution is everything.

Christina has spent her career attacking impossible tasks: at Yahoo, taking on the giant Google at search; at Linkedin, bringing people to participate daily at a site about resumes; at MySpace, reinventing the profile; at Zynga, building a social network for play. Some succeeded some did not. All had one thing in common: large groups of people all working toward a single goal. Lean can tell you what to build and Agile tells you how to build it--but neither tell you how to build it as a team. How do you build consensus? How do you inspire outlandish dreams? How do you create accountability in teams? Christina will share her toolkit for clarity and commitment. She has been refining this process with the start-ups she advises and invests in, and now it's ready to ship. You know about mission statements, but what about OKRs? Predictive roadmaps? Do you have a cadence for celebration? Come to this talk, and learn how to ship as a crew.

[theexecutionerstoolkit]

Shower Appreciation Society

We know the practice of gratitude opens our minds to abundance.

It makes our lives better. This focus helps us recognise the good that surrounds us. It improves our present happiness and our sense of optimism. And with that optimism comes the ability to recognise opportunity. If there's anything that will improve our lives then it's that.

I practise that. I practise gratitude. Every night I make a note of 5 things I’m grateful for about that day. There's a bit more to it than that but that’s the basics. I am shallow though. All too often the item that makes it onto my list is my shower. I have a fantastic shower. If I was a brazillionaire then that is one of those things I would definitely have. A brilliant shower. Oh wait, I already have that.

It’s just this type of gratitude doesn’t really build any sense of awareness for the support and contribution of others. It’s insular. I’m happy with my little life but not acknowleging the effort everyone else makes to support the life I am living. Those whose make my life so good.

Recently work ended and we had a big farewell party. It was goodbye forevever. We are never going to see each other again. That’s life. It happens far more than we'd like to acknowleege. Just this time it was all at once.

That's over and I've gone back to the indifferent South but that party was revelatory. (Although being me I only got the vibe later.) Almost everyone I sat and spoke with that evening expressed their appreciation. It was so gratifying to hear all of that. My ego, my god! Most of the time I was well you know, “Thanks. That’s great.” Did I reciprocate? Hardly ever. Hardly ever did I express my own appreciation for the hard work, commitment, support and just plain engagement I experienced. And in my role I am almost completely dependent on the work of others.

So What's that all about? Why am I like that?

Now I’m on to looking for a new role. Head first into the great silence. Only not. Those that have responded have been incredible. Amazing. They go over and above. They reach out, they support, they refer. Everyone that gets in contact gives more than they need to.

What is that?

Last year my Aunt was very ill. Death’s door ill. Pay attention, my oldest, closest living relative. My partner, not me, dropped everything and spent all her time making sure my Aunt got into the NHS system, got the right attention, and got the right treatment. She pulled her back from the brink and got her onto the road to recovery. She saved my Aunt’s life. That’s no small thing.

But forget about that.

That was an exception. What about the ordinary? What about the humdrum? The every day existence that woman has to put up with? Me, the grump, the curmudgeon. My favourite word? My universal response? “Eh!” Surely love requires a better level of acknowledgement? All this talk about being open to opportunity, Is this how I want to respond to the future? With an “Eh!”?

The power of your pleases and thank yous? Is it that mystical? Is it the force of the universe being attuned to? Is it a channel of determination I can immerse myself in? I know it changes things. I know it makes life better. I know it offers me the opportunity to reach and attain a better life and living. So, yes it is a sort of magic. It atunes me to better choices. Where I find myself in the future is going to be determined by the way I both project and respond in the present. By tuning into the good in life those opportunities naturally become more apparent.

By now it's obvious I’m too dull to pick up on those signals when they’re presented. With me that vibe is always later. I can't wait for the signal to reciprocate because with me realisation is always going to be after. Post Positve Realisation. Instead I need an up setting of my appreciation that is consistent and constant. I need to move from the shallow lip service of the Shower Appreciation Society to actually expressing proper thanks and appreciation to everyone who makes my life better. Before I'm prompted

I need to practise that everyday.

What about you?

#The Executioners Toolkit #Appreciation #grattitude #a better life

[theexecutionerstoolkit]

Channel of Vibe

The Luck you Makes

What if luck was a product of the quality of our relationships? All of them. The good and the bad? What if how well we did in life was a reflection on how well we were doing in our relationships? Or possibly even a result of how well we managed our relationships? Be nice to people and nice things happen to you? It sounds logical but is it a stretch? Is there correlation? Is there causation?

I have this very deluded belief that luck, or my luck, is in fact a mystical third force, something almost metaphysical in my life. Which while waxing and waning remains a constant underlying influence. It comes and goes, yet it remains. I believe it’s something that depletes but can also potentially grow to provide that smooth sailing through life I can only imagine. I believe it can be overused or over relied on. And I believe it’s something I have to be careful not to exhaust. I also believe it needs tending and maintenance. But how to do that is something I don’t really have any clear science for. I only know that if it seems my luck is a bit down then I need to give it a rest and to allow it to grow back again. What does that mean? I take less chances. I’m more careful when planning. I don’t rely so much on things just working out. So there you have it. Superstition.

What we all do know is that at the most basic level there is indeed a connection between the quality of our relationships with other people and the quality of our lives. As the cliche goes: we are the sum of the 5 people we spend the most time with. They also say we should cut any negative people out of our life completely and only surround ourselves with the super positive. That way we can drive our lives forward with a constant and incandescent circle of positivity. Creating a virtuous cycle of perpetual positive lift. The upper ups so loved by Schulz's Lucy.

I want that too. More luck, More upper ups. Yet, I live a very ordinary life, with its ups and downs, surrounded by people who, thank god, are mostly as ordinary as I am. Generally positive but occasionally having some negative moments. I wonder if that might be the same for you? Things do happen. Getting out of bed on the wrong side, meeting someone impatient on the way to work. That deadline you are under pressure to deliver to. Meeting one of those negative people you thought you were done with. But, for the most part it’s all good-ish.

It’s established that optimists generally do better in life than pessimists. Not due to any hypothetical secret ingredient or mythical third force fantasy (As much as I might wish that to be true), but rather that optimists, being of a more positive outlook, are more inclined to recognise and take opportunities when they find them. Whereas pessimists are the opposite. They try less, they get less. They're less disappointed? Actually, disappointment has already been baked in. Life meeting expectations? Yet neither the optimist nor the pessimist are inherently more or less lucky than the other. If that’s what you might be thinking. There it is though. A type of luck we can influence. What can we do to foster a more optimistic attitude? As we go through our day interacting with life? As we send out those varying responses of happiness, of gratitude, or resentment? But, being the selfish creatures we are, mostly of indifference, too wrapped up in the minutia of our own lives to realise we too are an influence on the lives around us. All those everyday variations of emotions and responses in turn creates the sea in which our optimism/luck swims. Possibly as that mythical third entity. We could take those interactions for granted and just carry on, but sticking to the same formula is not going to change things. The way we deal with, relate to, or work on our interactions with others will either improve or degrade the luck we are having. In both a direct and indirect manner. Maybe that's not something we should leave to chance? Maybe we shouldn’t just leave luck to luck? It’s all too easy to take those around us for granted, to make assumptions that progress to petty resentments, that in turn create a feedback loop that corrodes away at our positivity. In turn switching our awareness away from the good towards the negative. And that is a vicious cycle.

There is no stasis or equilibrium. If you do nothing differently, then things slowly fail. If we are not at least gently rising we are falling.

In the end, the practice of being just a bit more positive and encouraging to those around us means the world reflects back on us just a bit better. Which in turn lifts our levels of positivity and optimism. Upper ups? “Lucy, I have the answer!” Just as with the practice of gratitude and the fostering of a sense of abundance, this is an area that requires us to do the same with repeated acts of positive encouragement. Not just to those closest to us but to everyone we are in contact with. If we are to build a world, a path, a channel of vibe, to transport us to better places in our very ordinary lives then little things done repeatedly and constantly build the environment in which we live. So while it’s good to surround ourselves with positive people, it’s better for us to work on providing a positive experience for others.

#The Executioner's Toolkit #Channel Of Vibe #The Luck you Make

[theexecutionerstoolkit]

Games to play at work.

I mean it can be a long day. Time is passing and what to do?

Is it about looking good in the office? Well, that’s a fail. Is it planning for lunch? I’m seriously down for that. Is it The Chat?  “Today, I will mostly be practising being socially awkward?” I guess not. At last at the end of the day I get to go home. I've made it through another day. And that is a prize in itself. Achievement unlocked!

But I know that a life spent in petty distraction, watching the clock, and planning my escape, is a life wasted. So no, not that then. 

So, what to do? What to do? All those hours? All those seconds? The clock, clunk, clunk, clunking along?

Do you face this challenge?

Well here are three games you can play while you are at work.

Three should be more than enough. After all, how much fun can you pack into the working day? It’s 8 hours, and that's with a lunch break. Any more and it gets to be too much fun.

They're not hard to play. Allegedly. And I play them all, I mean if it's that sort of day.

Game one. Moral High Ground.

Now this is a great game. Let me try to explain the goal or objective.  To claim and hold the moral high ground in any engagement. Now, I know what you might be thinking but, no not that. It's to be a better person. And if you play this game properly then all too often things turn out right. Better outcomes, others feeling good about themselves and sometimes you might even end up feeling better about yourself. It’s tricky though, since should your ego triumph then you lose by default. That’s one way to play the game, but that is what can only be described as the Kingdom sacrifice. Perhaps not quite the same as throwing God for a stone but it’s the same principle.

To sacrifice doing the right thing for your own ego, to score petty points, to manoeuvre, to take a position of obvious moral superiority and then really rub it in. That's how to lose.

The real win in this game is to ensure the right outcome for the engagement despite the demands of your own ego. Ultimately it’s a further extension of being fair and playing fair. At work though there is the drive to get things done rather than just play a good game. That adds an element of direction that sometimes just being fair doesn't have.  So, it’s harder. Getting things done but done right. This and the third game together can ensure a very entertaining day and one that ensures objectives are achieved. 

There is no doubt that I can and do play this game for much lower stakes, sometimes to purely score points. I lose of course. Getting down in the gutter only gets me as mucky as everyone else working that elevation. So yes, it’s another one of those games best played against yourself rather than in competition with others. Any public claim of victory undermines your position so it's really the secret satisfaction of better outcomes

Game 2, Through the Mirror

Well, this is a harder one. Honestly, this is one of those games I just don’t play well at all. Even though the win, the payoff, is so fantastic.

It’s one of those games that has the power to transform the world around me. It’s a type of magic, a way to make things better. But let’s start way back at the beginning.

Way back before Carl Jung or Anais Nin or Chuck Palahniuk or Steven Covey. Yes, they all said this.

 “We see the world as we are. Not as it is''

The first time I read that quote I was like “Aha! Of course” It was revelatory at the time. Up until then my perspective was more of an “I am me, the world is the world and life happens.”  

So the world as a mirror? Isn't it rather that we focus on those aspects of the world that validate and reflect back our own beliefs and values? Going further and being even more extreme isn’t it that we project our beliefs, values and prejudices onto the world? Beyond that projection is a world both very real and very different to whatever we choose to see it as. And because of that sometimes surprising and shocking things happen. Things that we just don’t expect and cannot anticipate. 

Further to that logic, if that’s how I view the world then others must be doing the same thing? All of us proceeding within our own self constructed illusion interspersed with occasional bouts of realism?

Sure I knew all this but nothing changed. It was just knowledge.

Then a few years ago I read a truly fantastic book, “Surely you're joking Mr. Feynman” By Richard Feynman. the Nobel Prize winning Physicist who worked on the Manhattan project. This book is a recording of conversations he had with his friend and drumming partner, Ralph Leighton. 

One of the stories he told was when he was lecturing in Brazil he realised that he understood his students' broken English better than he understood their fluent Portuguese. So even though he could speak only intermediate Portuguese he began to give his lectures in Portuguese rather than in English. That is the basic premise of this game.

We know that others project  their hopes, dreams, perceptions, prejudices, and fears onto us and that they seek reflection as validation.  I think being able to respond in a way that enhances the positive traits being projected is one of the keys to getting things done. To find and appeal to the value inherent within each person. Each and everyone contains within us our own multiverse of existences and possibilities. We can either merely reflect back what  others are projecting or we can go further and choose to project back what is positive and life affirming.

There are people who are almost entirely negative and people that are also almost entirely positive. It’s popular to say discard the former and seek closer association with the latter. But these are a minority. Most of us are composite. Seeking out and projecting back the positive puts both the responsibility and the power into my control. That’s by being a little more than empathic, by being selective in response, by seeking out and reflecting back what’s good. And it’s affirming in itself.

To understand that is to realise the opportunity to reach through the mirror. To recognise that in the same way we are, others are seeking validation, and to take that opportunity to provide something deliberately positive instead of merely reflective.

Am I any good at this game? It’s challenging. To maintain awareness of others. To reach through my own projection. And all too often my focus is on the target instead of the process..

Although a focus on the prize can be a good thing, that's the end state. This is a means for achieving that.

Which brings us to;

Game 3. Eye on the Prize

Ask yourself what is it that we are supposed to be achieving? Beside the competition of ego? Besides office politics? Beside hacking through the troubles of today? What am I supposed to be getting done? What are we all supposed to be focused on? What's the target we're all working towards?

So here’s that other game I play, Eye On the Prize. And what a great game it is.

It’s basic but satisfying in the way it provides focus and meaning.. 

Knowing what the prize is and frequently revisiting that helps me keep things on track. It quickly highlights where and when things might be going wrong.

I know, often the love we set out for is not the love we arrive at. Things change. We change. What we thought we could see clearly from a distance is not the same thing close up. Keeping the direction and clarity of the payoff constant makes it so much easier to discern what is dross and what is essential.

So the questions, What’s our objective? What are we trying to achieve? These are critical in helping work out whether what I’m doing right now is moving us in the right direction. If I don’t know, if no one knows, then that needs to be called out and found out. It’s either that or Chaos. A paddle here, a paddle there, the canoe goes nowhere.

Sure you can relate this back to the business aim and vision. You know, that statement written large and in plain English on the wall behind reception as you walk into the office? Sometimes it’s difficult to relate everyday activities back to that but the very least I can do is ensure I know why we are doing what we are doing. 

If I consider the eye on the prize as my main game at work it pretty much annihilates all my other petty motivations. Its purpose. In a box. A purpose that is always there even if obscured by confusing messages, my ego and my own special brand of dullness.

So I try to ask myself what are we about right now? How does this all fit together to bring us to the place we want to be?  And if I can keep everyone, mainly myself, focused on that objective, that prize, then I can even stop my mind from wandering off. (Well no, that’s impossible. For me it’s mainly drive-by focus.)

It's also a really useful way of dealing with my tendency to regard every question as a personal challenge. It helps me acknowledge that weakness and avoid it. Otherwise whole meetings can and do descend into attrition. The game is lost.

Sometimes if I get really bored I’ll even try playing these games in real life.

#Executioners toolkit #Getting it Done #Games to Play #Eye on the Prize #Through the Mirror