#Sign the petition to bring back B's muscles

[reality-liver-n0]

This is going to be my worst post to date (in my opinion)

But after the anguish and turmoil that has hit Balalaika fans after her appearence in the latest chapter like her lack of muscle/strength that we know she unleashed on Rock, the fading of her scars, and other things I decided to investigate myself to see how much she changed.

The majority of these pictures are from the anime. Sad, I know, and hopefully once I find the direct panel from the manga that mirrors it I will edit or add more to this post.

I will start this by saying that Anime Balalaika is an absolute fucking unit. Like reviewing the pictures I realized that she's built like a very beautiful Russian tank and that is really the best description here.

Do you see what I mean? It's most likely the coat but still, it has to touch her shoulders to even drape.

Although, it depends on the scene as she can be like this too

Her shoulders are less defined and aren't quite as cut as the top ones but her muscle is there at least.

Above is the Virgin Rock as physical comparision

She's obviously fucking built way beyond his physique and she knows it. She corners him in or crosses her arms while his remain at his side as he tries to be unaffected. And honestly, kudos to him. He stood pretty strong in this scene and I think he knew he had to do that to even try and talk on her level.

I mean we've seen what happens when he doesn't. Disclaimers ahead, Rock is in for a rough ride. I on the other hand, laughed my ass off when I took these screenshots.

Also, here is what I personally think went through Balalaika's head in each scene and the progression of it.

% Anger Level - Annoyance

Jesus Christ, he's on this bullshit again. Sounds like one of those family dogs I keep having to put down.

% Anger Level - Frustrated

Maybe if I make it clear I'm pissed right now he'll have some sense left in him. If he says one more word I am going to make him the hood ornament for the car.

% Anger Level - Hostility

Just looking at this cigarerette is giving me an idea. I could just throw him like I could with this. Sooner or later he'll be stepped on; fire dying out.

% Anger Level - Rage

I'm certain his face will never change in his casket

With one strike I could gouge his eyes out. Maybe then he'll see justice.

You've sealed your fate Rock. Now you'll suffer the death of a true hero.

(Woohoo! 🎉You passed the slideshow and now I'll do my commetary. Here's a Boris photo as a reward.)

This is the face he wanted to make right when Rock started talking.

Anyway, I must have forgotten just how Balalaika threw Rock since I took those screenshots. I knew that she did it but somehow forgot that she did it with one arm. Or at least how much power she put into flinging him like a ragdoll. LIke she fucking lifted him in the air with one hand and with a single move had him on the hood in split seconds.

Here's a funny picture I caught mid-shot as well

His feet aren't touching the ground. He's fully straight as if he didn't have have a second to take it in, meanwhile his hands are just open and it's like he forgot he was even alive. No doubt, he had a vision that when Balalaika even reached for him that she just punted him to the afterlife.

Meanwhile, I cannot imagine the raw terror Revy must have felt seeing this happen.

She is scared as hell here. Keep in mind that this entire exchange she can't see Balalaika's face or Rock's. Both their backs are to her until Balalaika throws Rock. Still, I doubt that she really could've seen him past Balalaika's frame. Meanwhile, she's probabaly just processing that Balalaika's strong enough to do what she just did. Most likely she already knew she has a lot of physical power, I mean look at her, but this is the first time she's seen it and it happened to the worst person possible.

I can fully say that Balalaika is a fucking beast in hand-to-hand combat with the body to match it. And this is only focusing on her throwing Rock! She already snapped a neck by this point. Rock saw that and again, he does have some courage or maybe stupidity to even do this since he saw that with his own eyes.

Revy hasn't. And I don't think Rock told her, at least not until he knew they were back in Roanapur and safe. He was still traumatized by it too so chances are he is suffering some recurring nightmare of it. To top it off, this event alone was so visceral in his mind that he draws a direct comparaision to Chang, symbolizing how truly helpess he was.

With all that out of the way here isthe recent manga depiction of Balalaika

(no comment needed)

Here are the earlier depictions of her in the previous chapters. All the thanks to @crystallinee-waters and @progmanx for the posts concerning the chapters and the usual girlboss stuff 💅

Love you two for that

In conclusion the only explanation for this is that Chang used his CIA connnections (Eda) to tamper with the latest chapter to make himself look cooler. And I guess he had enough mercy to include Rock in that upgrade too, for whatever reason.

Hero of the chapter was definitely Le Majeur

Homegirl got sacraficed by Balalaika to the gays

Which will probabaly be another cursed post sometime in the future with the Holy Trinity (Balalaika, Revy and Le Majeur)

✊ They're staying strong and holding down the series' reperesentation of the ABC Mafia

(😔 not canonically tho only Le Majeur has officially come out, or got outed by her comrade. But then Revy saved her ass and definitely did not hear anything and now does not knows what Le Majeur really is.)

A homosexual 🌈

Okay. I think I'm finally done with this, and I went off the rails by the end but this post now exists so I will return to my secluded hole 🕳️

(Forgot to add buff Revy too, so here she is)

She can be both happy and mad but she's still jacked af (and silently judging you at all times because of your gayness)

[hooniee]

 — ꒰‧⁺paris run away  *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ 

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters​ event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3"  your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet. 

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled. 

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan. 

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted 

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president. 

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue. 

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head. 

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore?  i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-" 

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?" 

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that. 

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge 

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head. 

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

 after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup,"  you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice. 

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

 1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything. 

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge 

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time. 

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

 jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you. 

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already 

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him? 

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile. 

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[mehdifreee-blog]

Advice Nutrition

Once upon a time, it had been socially unacceptable for girls to participate in sports. However, within the past few decades, we’ve seen an increase in women’s sports and their square measure several feminine athletes with spectacular careers.I applaud the gender equality advancement and therefore

the major accomplishments created by feminine athletes, educators, researchers, and coaches.

As a feminine jock myself, I hope to visualize a lot of and a lot of girls' expertise the long positive effects that athletic activity will bring, together with stronger self-image and confidence, and improved mental and physical health. To continue this trend, it’s imperative that we tend to think about the distinctive wants of feminine athletes. Sadly, for an extended time, the analysis didn’t account for gender variations. Most current nutrition and coaching recommendations for girls still heavily believe the results of male-focused scientific studies. Considering that men and ladies take issue by half a dozen,500 genes, girls can not be viewed as petite men. During this article, I will be able to discuss gender nutrition issues, specializing in a couple of difficult problems that impact Men and Women United Nations agency square measure following athletic goals.

Considerations for Men

 Mental Health

 Feelings of ne'er being adequate, extreme thinking or a compulsive mindset may stem from underlying problems with depression, anxiety, addiction, or emotional trauma. Over the years, the problem of depression among elite male athletes has gained national attention. One in all the largest barriers to correct mental state care is stigma. It’s not uncommon for male athletes to avoid treating mental state problems as a result of their concern being seen as weak. Male athletes United Nations agency square measure extraordinarily involved concerning their weight square measure a lot of probably to suffer from feeding disorders and interact in bad behaviors like binge drinking and drug use. Depression or associate anxiety aboard an upset will exacerbate symptoms and create recovery tougher. As a result of athletes square measure usually beneath a considerable quantity of pressure to succeed, I encourage them to fastidiously balance this pressure with managing their mental state and well-being. as a result of most mental state sicknesses don’t improve on their own, it’s imperative that you simply get facilitate once your actions, thoughts, and behaviors often cause stress or have an impression on your way of life.

Body Image

 Some sports have a history of putting importance on weight. The mind-set for such sports as athletics, racing, wrestling, running, skiing, rowing, cycling, and triathlon athletics is that a coffee weight is vital for achievement. Creating matters worse, several coaches applaud athletes United Nations agency will scale back their body fat to terribly low stress on however girls look, male athletes aren’t exempt from the social group pressures to attain the proper athletic physique. a fervent specializing in body fat share might cause unhealthy weight loss practices, like starvation; vomiting; the employment of laxatives, diet pills, and sweat room suits; and excessive exercising—all of that associate with long term health consequences. The goal of any weight reduction program ought to be to scale back body fat while not compromising health or sports performance. Male athletes United Nations agency struggle with body image ought to get skilled help—eating disorders square measure treatable, however, they'll be fatal while not correct treatment.

Considerations for Women

 Amenorrhea

Many doctors coaches and athletes believe that several doctors, coaches, and athletes believe that once girls stop obtaining their amount, this can be a traditional indication of being terribly work and active. In reality, expelling dysfunction could be a sign of stress and unhealthy body functioning. The athletic symptom isn’t simply supported body fat share or activity level. Primary causes embrace energy deficiency, a no- or diet, severe emotional stress, and intense training.

       There square measure 2 forms of amenorrhea:

 •Primary amenorrhea: regular expelling periods never started

 •Secondary amenorrhea: regular menses suddenly stops

Amenorrhea might cause stress fractures, loss of lean muscle mass, irreversible bone loss, pathology, and future issues with sterility.

Another adverse consequence is the associate hyperbolic risk of disorder. It’s believed that the loss of steroid might worsen the operate of the epithelium (the inner lining of blood vessels), like what happens for a post-menopausal lady. The goal of symptom treatment is to extend energy handiness by increasing caloric intake and/or decreasing energy expenditure. though a low-dose preventive will doubtless raise steroid levels and stop bone loss, taking supplements or contraception to force menstrual bleeding won’t resolve the underlying issue of not feeding enough to support exercise demands and traditional body functioning.

RED-S

Most athletes train laborious to perform at a high level, however, you would like to acknowledge that your health matters too in 2014 the International Olympic matters, too. In 2014, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) came up with a comprehensive term, relative energy deficiency in sport (RED-S), to stress the wide selection of health and performance consequences that occur once energy intake is too little to support the energy expenditure needed for health. in contrast to the feminine jock triad, a syndrome that features low energy handiness, expelling dysfunction, and slashed bone mineral density, this newer classification provides a holistic commit to defend associate athlete’s psychological and physiological health, whereas up performance and longevity in sport. RED-S affects each male and feminine athlete, and therefore the consequences square measure numerous: hyperbolic injury risk, menses dysfunction (for women), impaired judgment, depression, slashed muscle strength, slashed animal starch storage, and diminished performance. Different problems embrace fatigue, dehydration, low motivation, mood changes, irritability, restless sleep, and disruption to endocrine, vas, and immunologic health.

Menstruation

 A daily cycle could be a sign of fine health. It’s necessary to know however a feminine athlete’s hormones might have an effect on performance.

•Follicular part (low secretion phase): Days one to fourteen of your cycle. For one to seven days, hemorrhage happens. close to the tip, steroid levels increase slightly. Strength, power, and high-intensity workouts could also be easier to accomplish. thanks to menses, girls need a lot of daily dietary iron than men (18 milligrams everyday iron than men (18 milligrams every day versus eight milligrams for men).

•Luteal part (high secretion phase): Days fourteen to twenty-eight. Lipo-Lutin levels increase to organize the liner of the female internal reproductive organ for egg implantation. the biological process happens with an explosive rise in steroid and gonadotropic hormone. If no egg is deep-rooted, Lipo-Lutin levels drop, the liner sheds, and hemorrhage happens to start out another monthly cycle. steroid might increase carboxylic acid availability; so, low-intensity endurance sessions square measure suggested as a result of it’s easier to utilize fat for fuel. A visit plasma volume and increase in total body metallic element loss may compromise performance within the heat and increase the risk of dehydration and symptom.

Every lady responds otherwise to secretion fluctuations. Common discharge symptoms (PMS) embrace bloating, restless sleep, irritability, and mood swings. you must keep track of your cycle for the needs of coaching and competition coming up with. If you select to require oral contraceptives to modulate your cycle or stop maternity, discuss the professionals and cons together with your doctor.

Pregnancy

 Once a girl is prepared to conceive, she ought to be at her biological process best. Associate unhealthy diet and an inactive lifestyle will cause sort two polygenic disease and fleshiness, and lead to tough labor and birth. To support the expansion and development of the craniate, several physiological changes occur within the body. For several physiological changes occur within the body. As an example, throughout the primary trimester, blood volume and rate of flow increase as varied organs need a lot of blood flow. Throughout the trimester, the mother’s heart works thirty to fifty p.c tougher at rest. Later in your maternity, you will expertise shortness of breath thanks to the mechanical alteration of your diaphragm; you may additionally sweat a lot of. Postpartum, you will struggle to urge back to cardio coaching as a result of your girdle core is weak. Maternal body fat keeps early in maternity encourages aldohexose delivery for vertebrate wants. A healthy maternity weight gain might vary from twenty-five to forty pounds reckoning on preconception weight. Not all weight gain throughout maternity is keeping as fat. As an example, if you deliver a seven.5- pound baby, concerning thirteen pounds of your weight gain, is distributed among your breasts, placenta, uterus, blood, liquid body substance, and maternal fluids. Pregnant girls need twenty-seven milligrams of iron and 600 milligrams of vitamin B every day. Associate exercise prescription ought to be severally determined for every pregnant lady. Reasons to prevent exercise forthwith and request medical recommendation include:

•Painful female internal reproductive organ contractions

 •Bloody discharge

 •Abdominal pain, chest pain

•Sudden swelling or pain

•Blurred vision, headaches, dizziness, faintness

•Extreme fatigue, shortness of breath

 Menopause

 Biological time is that the time woman’s life once her ovary functioning involves a finish. It usually happens once a girl is in her 40s or 50s (the average age is 51), and for several girls, it is average age is 51), and for several girls, it is exhausting and tough. The perimenopausal transition involves many years of unsteady secretion levels, significantly a decline in the steroid. Periods quieten down regular and eventually stop. Common complaints embrace hot flashes, night sweats, anxiety, depression, concentration issues, channel condition, insomnia, headaches, joint and muscle pain, and lower concupiscence. Symptoms take issue in keeping with lifestyle, diet, genetics, procreative history, and culture. Long-term, unsteady hormones might increase the danger of the disorder, pathology, loss of muscle mass, and weight gain.

 Medicative herbs like black snakeroot and dong Quai square measure publicized to assist with symptoms, however, there's very little research to support their safety and effectiveness and warrant usage. Some girls look to natural or artificial secretion replacement medical aid (HRT) to manage biological time symptoms, however, it’s necessary to think about the risks. A healthy diet at the side of physical activity, yoga, massage, and meditation square measure healthy and safe ways in which to manage the severity of biological time aspect effects. Foods like soybeans, legumes, lentils, bean curd and tempeh, flaxseeds, whole grains, beans, and fruits and veggies may scale back some pre- and post-menopausal symptoms as a result of they contain phytoestrogens, that square measure similar in structure to estrogens.

Disordered eating

 It’s not uncommon for feminine athletes to considerably limit caloric intake, basic cognitive process that a body that weighs less can cause performance success. in contrast to clinical feeding disorders, like anorexia or bulimia, disordered feeding could be a general term to explain each harmful feeding behaviors employed in a trial to attain lower behavior employed in a trial to attain an under traditional weight and obsessional behaviors in pursuit of a healthy diet. Examples embrace rigid or righteous feeding, fasting, anxiety, management problems or preoccupation with sure foods, food rituals, extreme concern with body size, and elimination of entire food teams. Body-shaming comments created by coaches and necessary regular weigh-ins will intensify body image considerations. as a result of athletes square measure gave a socially acceptable setting during which it’s okay to overly exercise and follow strict feeding habits, it’s not uncommon for the athletic performance of associate energy-starved jock to be celebrated.

however such enhancements square measure frequently fugacious. Eventually, nutrient deficiencies, fatigue, anemia, reduced cardio operate, chronic sicknesses, injuries, and low motivation can occur and impair physical and mental state. Since disordered feeding is a precursor to a clinical upset, seeking early assistance is the simplest cautions.

[granny-snek-7673]

The Ballad of Passion and Fury

Summary: Fable and her two best friends move into the quaint town of HavensView in Maine to start their new lives. The people they meet there seem nice enough, but everyone has their secrets; some are just darker than others.

Chapter 1

I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils.

           It was dark outside, the thick storm clouds blocking the moon and the stars, heavy rain pouring down like God himself had tipped over a bucked filled with all the water from the ocean. I couldn’t see anything and my body was so wet and cold that I could hardly feel my bare feet hit the ground at my breakneck pace as I ran through the woods. I didn’t need to see where I was going, it was instinct leading the way. But I wasn’t running from something, I was running toward it; it being someone. Through the woods was the fastest way to get there; it was the fastest way to get to her. I needed to see her. I had to tell her something. It was important. She had to know. This changed everything.

           Fable woke with a start and groaned. She was back in the passenger seat of her best friend’s car, tired, thirsty, sore, and extremely hungover. The slate gray 2009 Subaru Forester hummed softly as they drove. Sunlight streamed in through the window, assaulting her vision and worsening her alcohol induced headache like a pickaxe on a stone. “Figures,” she thought, sullenly, referring to the familiar nightmare. She sighed softly, her dark thoughts getting the best of her. All Fable wished was that a nightmare was all that it had been. Instead, it was a memory of the worst night of her life. She glanced to her left and corrected herself; it was the worst night of their lives. But what was worse was that she couldn’t remember what she had discovered that had set off the chain reaction of tragedy that night.

           Fable groaned and stretched her sore extremities as best as she could with her body strapped into the passenger seat of the car by her seatbelt. Her bones creaked and cracked like she was an eighty year old woman and her muscles screamed in protest. After a minute of stretching that slowly morphed to something more akin to writhing in pain, snickering from the driver’s seat drew Fable’s blurry vision to her best friend.

           Pearle Serafin was smiling and trying to hold back her laughter. She brushed her waist length straight silky silver tresses back from her angular face and glanced over at Fable with her golden flaked brown eyes. “Did you have a nice nap, lady-drinks-a-lot?” she snickered.

           “Well I can’t say much for the comfort of these seats,” Fable grunted, adjusting herself. She wasn’t exactly wrong about the seats; the car was an older model.

           Pearle laughed and shook her head. “You know, it’s a good thing Carson is leading the way because I don’t think you would have made a very good navigator after that going away party last night,” she said.

           “Not to mention an even worse driver,” Fable quipped.

           Pearle laughed again and nodded her agreement. “Well, we’re here anyway,” she added, pointing to the sign that read ‘Welcome to HavensView’ as they sped past it on the road.

           “Thank God,” Fable snorted. Pearle rolled her eyes in response.

           As they followed Carson, who lead the way in his 2015 Toyota Tundra pickup truck that pulled the full moving trailer down a winding dirt road, Fable studied her friend. To Fable, Pearle had always seemed to be a creature not of this earth. Her lithe figure, angular features, and rose kissed pale skin always reminded Fable of the elves from fairy tales. Even the dress she wore, a full length pale blue sweetheart cut sundress with pale pink and yellow flowers printed on it, seemed to support Fable’s idea that Pearle had been a princess in another life. Pearle’s thin pink lips were turned up in a smile and the nostrils of her petite nose flared as she inhaled the scent of the forest trees through the rolled down window.

           Fable was a stark contrast to her friend, both in appearance and temperament. Fable stared at her own reflection in the passenger side mirror. Intense ice blue eyes laced with thick black lashes stared back at her, set into a heart shaped face with a slightly upturned nose and full, supple pink lips. Fable’s wild, untamed ringlets fell past her lower back in rebellion, looking like the flames of a fire; the roots a dark wine auburn, which faded to a copper orange, which then faded to gold at the ends. Her skin was tan and freckled from the sun, covered with tattoos and spotted with scars. Her 5’6” frame sported toned muscles that could rival those of some men, but she had what most would consider a curvy build. She glanced back at Pearle. If Pearle was an elven princess, then Fable was a dwarven warrior.

           Where Pearle was soft and moldable, Fable was hard and unyielding. Where Pearle was pretty and lenient, Fable was plain and rough. Where Pearle was reasonable, Fable was not. Where Pearle used diplomacy, Fable used force. When Pearle forgave and sought compromise, Fable held grudges and sought revenge. It had been that way for as long as Fable could remember; two sides of the same coin. The only thing that they could truly agree on was compassion for those in need and punishment for those who truly deserved it.

           Fable remembered the day that she, Pearle, and Carson became friends. She smiled when she pictured five year old Pearle on the playground, tears streaming down her cheeks, a true damsel in distress if there ever was one. Not a great way to start the first day of kindergarten, Fable mused. What had prompted Pearle’s tears was, in fact, Carson, who had taken Pearle’s purple ribbon right from her hair. Whether he did it out of malice or out of an attempt to get her to chase him, the friends still didn’t know to this day. Fable couldn’t remember what had come over her tiny self, but little Fable had marched right up to little Carson, kicked him in the shin, smacked him in the face, and pulled his hair until he dropped the ribbon and ran away. Fable was a fighter, Carson was not. Fable then returned the ribbon to Pearle, who from that moment on never left her side. Obviously, Carson had tattled and when everyone’s parent’s got involved, apologies were made, and mandatory get-along-or-else playdates were arranged. But somehow, the trio had become more than ordinary best friends in that time of forced companionship in their hometown of Chesapeake City, Maryland. And that more than ordinary friendship continued through school and college and into their careers and adult lives. Fable’s smile brightened a bit more when she realized that the purple ribbon that had started it all was still wound around Pearle’s willowy wrist.

           That event was what Fable had pinpointed as the start of her desire to become a police officer. Fable had always wanted to right wrongs and protect the weak; she wanted to use her strength to serve others. And that’s exactly what she did. Fable had gone to the Police academy right out of high school and had a job on the force within the year. Fable couldn’t imagine a more perfect occupation for herself.

           While Fable was at the academy and on the force, Pearle and Carson had gone to college together. Carson got his teaching degree with an emphasis on English Education and Pearle got her degree in Theatre and Arts. Those five and a half years were what the friends often called the lost years; the years that none of them felt like themselves, the years that they were apart.  

           When the winding road finally came to an end, Fable and Pearle both gasped in delight as their new home came into view. They drove past an old dilapidated sign with chipped paint that once read ‘The BrookeMoore Estate’, but the paint was so faded and flaked that only the ‘B’ from ‘BrookeMoore’ was actually recognizable. The dirt road ended in a circle drive in front of a two story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. To the west, there was an old barn that had been converted to a large garage. The front yard had two impressive flower beds and space for a vegetable garden. Carson pulled his truck and trailer into the circle drive in front of the house and Pearle pulled her car into the driveway in front of the converted four car garage. Run down as the place was, it was quaint and suited their needs perfectly. Besides, with their combined effort, Fable was sure that it would be in prime shape within the year. Even so, Fable could still hardly believe it was theirs.

           When Pearle parked the car, Fable quickly extricated herself from the seatbelt and bailed out the door, her stiff legs barely supporting her as she stood and stretched more thoroughly, every muscle and joint groaning in protest. She took a moment to survey her surroundings and quickly concluded that she had her work cut out for her with the weeding and landscaping. And just about every fence and exterior wall could really use a fresh coat of paint. Then she closed her eyes and took in the soft sounds of nature that surrounded her; the wind in the trees and the grass, the soft singing of the birds, rushing water from somewhere nearby. The house was far enough from town that it was quiet, but it only took about twenty minutes to get to the police department in town where she would start work as a detective next week. She’d been promoted to detective just before she’d requested transfer to HavensView. Peace seemed to settle over Fable as her anxiety and anticipation about the move and starting a new life quickly turned to excitement.

           Fable was wrenched from her thoughts when muscular arms wrapped her up in a suffocating hug and lifted her feet from the ground. Fable grunted and squirmed, trying to extract herself from Carson’s purposefully painful embrace. She poked and prodded and kicked and when her voice was reduced to a wheeze, finally managed to push away from her friend. She landed on her feet, but only remained so because Carson steadied her with strong hands on her shoulders. Fable glared up at Carson, who stood nearly a foot taller than her, his jade green eyes shining with mischief, his whole face smiling. He ran a hand through his golden blond hair and he laughed his deep, whole-body laugh.

           “I’m surprised you didn’t die of alcohol poisoning on the drive here,” he chuckled. “I half expected you to still be passed out cold when we arrived. I had a plan to dump water on you and everything.”

           Fable stared up at Carson, pretending to be annoyed with his honest nature. She was able to keep it up for nearly three minutes and saw Carson become visibly anxious, sweat beading on his forehead. Finally, a roar of laughter boiled over and escaped Fable’s lips. “It’s going to take a lot more liquor than that to kill me!” she managed to gasp out between bouts of laughter. Carson laughed with her, at ease once again.

           Pearle, who decidedly did not ever under any circumstances consume alcohol of any kind, rolled her eyes; but the smile didn’t disappear from her lips. “Can we maybe not try to find that limit?” she asked, always the voice of reason. “I really do like it when you’re both alive.” She winked.  

           Fable and Carson shrugged, pretending to weigh their options, but when Pearle’s eyes narrowed, they both quickly raised their hands in surrender.

           “Alright,” Pearle said, “enough joking around. Let’s get all the boxes inside so Carson can call the moving company and arrange for them to pick up the trailer tomorrow.”

           Before the unpacking could begin, the three friends did a quick walkthrough and cleaning of their new home. Fable noted how new the inside appeared in contrast to the slowly decaying exterior. She wondered if the people who had lived there before them had moved out before completing the renovations or if it was a purposeful and stylistic decision on their part. She shrugged and helped sweep and dust, exploring as she went.

           The front door was solid oak painted white and led into the living and dining room. Hooks were hung on the wall between the door and one of the windows to hang coats and shelves were built into the walls for shoes. The kitchen was to the left through the dining room and the living room was to the right.

           The kitchen was spacious with a large island, a deep farmhouse sink, and stainless steel appliances. The counters were gray granite and the cabinets, some of which looked like framed glass windows, were painted white with stainless steel knobs with etchings. The island had a smaller, more traditional sink and there was a rack above it that functioned as a light fixture and a place to hang pots and pans. There was a fair sized breakfast nook to the far side of the kitchen next to the side door.

           The dining room was right next to the kitchen, no walls separating them. It was a surprisingly open concept for an old farmhouse. The space was plenty big enough for their large table with three chairs on one side, chairs at the end, and a bench on the other side. To the right of the dining room on the right side of the front door was the open concept living room. It had a built in entertainment system cabinet on the far wall and some shelving units. In the corner, there was a large river stone fireplace.

           Straight through the front door, there was a hallway that led to the back of the house on the left and a staircase that led to the second floor on the right. Halfway down the hallway, there was a half bathroom and just past it was the laundry room and mudroom, complete with a washer, dryer, and folding table. Across from the laundry/mudroom was the utility room, which housed the water heater and other household essentials. At the end of the hallway, there was the back door, which led out onto the wrap around porch and the expansive unfenced backyard that faded to forest trees.

           Up the stairs on the second level, directly to the left there was the master bedroom that was complete with its own master bathroom. To the right, there was a hallway that led to two fair sized bedrooms that shared a bathroom between them. The shared bathroom had a double vanity with plenty of storage space, a claw foot tub, and a glass shower.

           Once all the cleaning was finished, the trio set to the task of moving in and unpacking efficiently. Carson, always the muscle of any operation, carried the boxes two at a time to the front porch, though he admittedly had some trouble with Fable’s boxes of books. Fable then sorted them by their labels and began to take them inside and deposit them in the appropriate rooms. Pearle, as always, supervised and directed the other two. Once all the boxes were in the right rooms, Fable and Carson moved all the furniture inside to their proper places, moving each piece around as Pearle saw fit. However, whether or not Carson and Fable heeded Pearle’s advice depended entirely on the situation. Once all the boxes were out of the trailer, Carson unhitched it, pulled the truck into the driveway in front of the old barn turned parking structure, and pulled out the ramp to get Fable’s current mode of transportation out of the bed of the truck. Carson helped Fable roll her all black and chrome 1959 Harley Cruiser motorcycle down the ramp and into its own place in the garage. When they made their way back into the house, Pearle was already at work in the kitchen going through each box and putting things in their rightful places. Minutiae had always been her strong point.

           Carson and Fable left Pearle to do her work and moved to the living room to fight with the TV, DVD player, and various video game consoles. Fable scanned the user’s manuals, as she usually did, to try to get it right the first time. Carson dove right in, his square cut jaw set in determination, but after fighting with cords for nearly thirty minutes, handed control over to Fable, who got it right with the help of the printed instructions. Pearle, now finished sorting out all the dishes and appliances and other kitchen things, called for Carson’s help with various pieces of furniture. This left Fable to go up to her room on the second floor to unpack her personal belongings in her bedroom.

           Fable and Pearle opted for the bedrooms that shared the bathroom because neither would ever wish the mess of Carson’s bathroom habits on the other. Carson agreed to this happily. Fable spent nearly three hours unpacking her belongings, twice having to ask Carson to help her move the many bookcases that lined one of the walls. But when the task was finally completed, she ventured back downstairs to find Carson and Pearle lounging on the couch in the living room. They had managed to unpack the majority of the boxes and put things in their proper places. Fable plopped down onto the old, plush couch cushion between them.

           “I’m starving,” Fable groaned.

           “Then make something to eat,” Carson suggested, laughing.

           “We just moved in,” Fable retorted, “there’s no food here yet, dumbass.”

           “Sounds like someone’s a little hangry,” Pearle laughed. “There’s bread and peanut butter in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

           “I want real food,” Fable whined.

           “She’s hangry and hungover,” Carson agreed, “She drank almost half her body weight in booze last night and finished like four fights. She’s not craving carbs. She’s craving grease.”

           “Notice that I didn’t start the fights. I get points for that,” Fable added.

           “Doesn’t mean you get a free pass to be a bitch,” Pearle replied, nudging and winking at Fable playfully.

           “If I say please, will one of you drive me to dinner?” Fable asked.

           Carson laughed and shook his head. “You need to find a real car,” he suggested, “Adults with real jobs don’t ride motorcycles.”

           Fable laughed. “Fine. If I say please and promise to start looking for a responsible adult car tomorrow, will one of you drive me to town for food?” she asked. Both Pearle and Carson nodded. Fable sighed, “I promise to look for a real car starting tomorrow so will one of you PLEASE drive me to town to get dinner?”

           “I’ll drive,” Pearle replied.

           “I’ll buy,” Carson added.

           All three friends laughed and walked out to Pearle’s car where Carson and Fable fought for the front seat. After Carson tossed Fable over his shoulder and physically threw her into the back seat, he got into the passenger seat and Pearle drove them into town. Pearle parked on the street on the southwest side of town where most of the restaurants were as indicated by Carson’s phone GPS. The trio walked around, weighing their options and trying to decide where to eat. At one point, Carson took pity on Fable and carried her piggy-back style, her hunger driving her to complain pitifully, whale mating calls seemingly originating from her abdomen. After walking around for somewhere between thirty and forty minutes, the trio settled on a restaurant called Remi’s Bar and Grill.

           Luckily, it was a Tuesday night, so there weren’t too many people there and they got a table right away. Carson ordered a steak with mashed potatoes, Pearle a grilled salmon salad, and Fable a double bacon cheeseburger with fries. As they waited for their food, they talked quietly about various things, the conversation flowing as it usually did. As was the norm, Fable excused herself to wash her hands before the food arrived and went in search of the bathroom. She found it at the end of a dimly lit hallway near the back of the establishment and thoroughly washed her hands, as living with her clean freak mother had conditioned her to do. Once she was satisfied that her hands were clean, she opened the door with her foot and tossed the used paper towel in the bin before leaving the bathroom. Fable was a pro at getting out of bathrooms without using her hands.  

           As she made her way back down the hallway, she was taken by surprise as a door swung open and nearly hit Fable in the face. In a split second, she noticed the sign that read ‘Manager/Proprietor/Owner’ and quickly jumped back to avoid having her nose kiss the door. Two men walked out of the manager’s office, one of them walking back out into the restaurant, his gait and posture reflecting anger, and the other stood staring after him for a moment before turning to face Fable.

           The man was tall—6’3” at the least—and sported a very muscled and toned frame with broad shoulders. He had fair tanned skin and his sandy brown/blond hair was cut shorter on the sides but left longer on the top and worked into a peak with soft mousse. He had a soft face with a square jaw and chin, full lips, a large yet proportionate angular nose, thick furrowed brows, and deep brooding green eyes. Fable had to clear her throat and look away to recover her dignity after staring at him with her mouth open for several moments. She silently scolded herself for acting so skittish as though she hadn’t spent six years on the job as a cop. But the man didn’t say anything; he just stood and stared at her, Fable acutely aware of his gaze on her. She felt a blush work its way onto her face as the silence between them extended.

           “I’m so sorry,” the man finally said, “I hope he didn’t hit you with the door.” His voice was deep and melodic but there was a rough edge to it. Fable detected a subdued confidence in the cadence of his words.

           “Just missed me,” Fable replied quietly, “I’m pretty quick on my feet. It’s all good. No worries.” She glanced back up at him and nearly jumped back again at the intensity of his gaze. She admonished herself again. He wasn’t the first man to stare at her like that, so why was it making her so nervous? In a lame attempt to bring the encounter to a civil end and rescue her first impression to him, Fable smiled and said, “You must be Remi.”

           The man laughed. “Excuse me?” he queried.

           “The sign on your door,” Fable explained, pointing, “it says Manager/Proprietor/Owner. And since this is Remi’s Bar and Grill, you’re either Remi or a liar.” She grinned.

           The man laughed again, his deep voce ringing in Fable’s ears. “Very clever,” he replied, “but Remi is actually in reference to my family’s surname; Remington.”

           “Like the firearm?” Fable asked. He nodded, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Well then, Mr. Remington, I’d best get back to my family. They might eat my food if I give them the chance,” she continued.

           “My name is Wesley,” he replied, “You can call me Wesley.”

           “Nice to meet you, Wesley,” Fable replied, “I’m Fable. Fable Ballard.” She held her hand out for him to shake.

           Wesley took her hand and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you, Fable,” he said softly, “I hope you and your family enjoy your meal.”

           “Thank you,” Fable said, smiling. Then she dropped his hand and moved past him in the hallway to walk back to the table where Carson and Pearle were talking and laughing as they waited for their meal. She returned to her seat and easily joined the conversation. The food arrived soon after Fable had gotten back from the bathroom and silence fell over the trio as they quickly consumed their meals, though afterward Carson remarked that Fable had looked like a feral beast eating the first meal in many months. Once they were all finished, Carson settled the bill and they ventured back to their car. Carson drove home and Pearle and Fable fell asleep together in the back seat; food coma. Carson gently woke the girls when they got back to their new home and they all bid each other goodnight before retreating to their own rooms. Fable dug her poker chip out of her pocket and set it on the bedside table. Then she brushed her teeth, put her pajamas on, a pair of green and gray flannel pants with a long sleeved gray shirt, pulled her hair back into twin French twists, and crawled into bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

[vixxpirational]

Stranger Danger (AU) | Part 1 of ?

Inspiration: The need to write and my lack of ability to actually do it in a timely manner Group: Taehyung/BTS (and some other lovely lady but you don’t know who she is yet. Imagine all the sexy noonas). Warning: Implied sexy things happened.  Words: 1172 Note: I’m being vague because I’m not about spoilers. Also, another one inspired by the wonderful Kate’s moodboards

Taehyung is an art student assigned to paint his biggest fear. He learns a lot more about that than his professor intended. 

The assignment for Art with Emotion class was simple enough. Taehyung had written the details in his planner with a smug grin, confident that he would have this one in the bag. Face a fear and paint what you feel. He would just go to the cafeteria and eat the pizza. He’d paint the pain of living in the bathroom for an evening.

“Taehyung, do you want to to be an artist or draw comics for a newspaper?” his professor asked when he turned in his sketch.

“Aren’t newspaper comic strips art as well?”

“Your assignment is successful, then.” His professor set the paper down, eyes failing to mask the disappointment he was hiding in the square of his shoulders. “Make sure to add more comedy to the piece, perhaps at the abdominal pain.”

Taehyung could feel the judgment seep into his skin and resonate in his bone. He wasn’t sure getting a passing mark was worth losing his professor’s respect. He knew what the words mean—he was studying art to be much more than the guy that sketched political cartoons and Sunday comics for the Daegu Shinmun.

In his dorm that night, his arms felt like lead as he started to work. His blank canvas was mocking him as he started to sketch his lines. He knew it wasn’t worth losing credibility in class for the easy A and the easy way out.

He signed and glanced at his watch. If he left now, he’d be able to sketch the graveyard before the sun set. He could take it to his professor the next day, hope for another chance of approval. It would only give him a day to finish his assignment, and there’s no way he’d get an extension at this point.

Packing his oil paints in a bag, brushes carefully rolled in his apron, tucked to the side, and a few bottles of water, he braced himself for spending far too long in a place that was the source of too many campus ghost stories. He wasn’t afraid of seeing something supernatural.

Face a fear and paint what you feel.

Taehyung would have to face the most common and debilitating human fear: death.

— — —

There were low lamps lining the walking paths in the graveyard. Standing an easel wasn’t an option if Taehyung wanted to see his canvas. The last of the sun was clinging to the black of night. His heart buzzed in his chest, the sound in his ears like a hummingbird. He needed the light and he needed this class to graduate.

His eyes flickered between the line of headstones and his canvas, sketching over the rough fabric where his paint would go, adding the eerie shadows that left his muscles tense. His back ached from hunching over, keeping close to the light, of focusing his attention to his work so that he could ignore the prickle of goosebumps all over his skin.

The wind blew but Taehyung ignored the chill dancing along his spine. An owl called into the night but Taehyung ignored just how it echoed. Twigs cracked and leaves crunched around him but Taehyung ignored how the sound grew closer and closer.

“Brave young man to come into the graveyard at night,” a soft voice whispered in his ear, their breath washing over him. He would have screamed but he knew he had nowhere to run. He looked straight ahead, trying to convince himself he was dreaming.

“What brings you here, handsome?” The voice was sultry, dripping with feminine seduction. He could feel a nail trailing between his shoulder blades. In any other location, in any other situation, he would have played along.

“A-Assignment.” How he spoke it all was a miracle.

“An art student, are you?” He felt a hand cupping his chin and pull his gaze around to face whoever was speaking to him. She had long, cascading auburn locks over her petite shoulders, the strands tucked behind her ears. She had sharp eyes, lined in black that made them appear more feline. She was crouched next to him, short dress showing her creamy thighs in the yellow light on the path. Her breasts were pushed up, a line of cleavage that would have left Taehyung panting.

“You have nothing to fear, handsome. I’m just enjoying the last of the warm days before autumn takes over.” She spoke with honey, smooth and thick, intoxicating. Her lips were close and Taehyung could feel himself melting into the woman. Her perfume was sweet with a tang of iron mingled in. Her eyes were like fire, burning holes into him.

“Why are you painting the graveyard, sweetheart? Don’t you know it’s dangerous here after dark?” Her lips pressed against his ear and everything in Taehyung moved south. He dropped his pencil, the wood clattering and rolling out of reach. She pressed a finger against the pulsing vein in his neck, her eyes closing as if the rapid wave of his blood pumping was a drug.

“A-Assignment…” he managed to answer, his gaze trained to her. Her lips curled into a wicked smile and he was captivated, even with every single nerve telling him to run. She had him hooked. She knew he was under her spell. Every blink of her dangerous eyes, every exhale from her perfect lips, every centimeter she closed between had his mind wanting more. “I’m supposed to paint what I fear.”

“And what is it that a handsome man like you fears? Darkness?” He looked up at her, eyes wide. “Death?”

He nodded and the sound that came from her should have scared him. “It’s too final,” he whispered.

“You shouldn’t fear death, baby. You should fear strangers.” She slid a finger across his bottom lip.

“You’re a stranger. Should I fear you?”

“Don’t you? Your heart is pounding, isn’t it. You’re not afraid?” He shook his head with too much enthusiasm, but that only seemed to encourage her more. “You’re attracted to me, then. Lucky me to have someone a cute as you thinking about doing horrible things to me.”

“Not–Not horrible. I’d b—” She pressed a finger to his lips to silence, her other hand gripping the inside of his thigh. He moaned and closed his eyes, electricity running in his body and zeroing in at his groin.

“Do you want this?” He nodded and her hand gripped him harder. “You’re not scared?” He shook his head and her hand pressed better his thighs. His eyes shot open to her. “Do you want me?”

“Y-Yes…” The finger on his lips dropped to slide under his shirt. She pushed it up, revealing his chest. She stared with hungry eyes. She leaned in, pressing a kiss just above his heart. Her tongue flicked his nipple playfully. “Yes,” he whispered again.

She chuckled and looked up at him. “Big mistake, handsome,” she murmured, her eyes going black and her sharp teeth gleaming in the low light. Taehyung was consumed with an unnatural, overwhelming pain before his mind went black.

[a-colourful-stranger]

Story: Of Orange Juice and Olives

Summary: You have a pamphlet sitting on your bedside table, now stained with spilt orange juice, that says Self-Help for Beginners—it has gone unread.

Trigger Warnings: Severe depression, brief mention of self-harm, delusions.

Words: 3959

Of Orange Juice and Olives

11:16am: Do you need help?

Sometimes you can hear the walls talking to you. Nonsensical things. Like the sound of a baby’s babble. A language you have never heard before and can’t begin to understand.

But sometimes you can.

“Hello?”

Sometimes the voices are loud. Other times they’re quiet. Most times they fade away and are swallowed down by a loud, groaning beast, never to be heard from again. The sound comes every hour, only a minute, before it disappears drowning the voices with it.

Sometimes the voices call out to you. Asking you questions.  

“How are you?”

“Do you miss me?”

“Dinner on Friday?”

Sometimes you reply.

“I’m okay.”

“I miss you.”

“I can’t, I’m busy.”

Sometimes you feel like you know the voices behind the wall. There are some that return, and frequent your tiny room, and they ask for you. They call for you. “Are you there? Can you hear me? I want to talk to you about something.” You’re too afraid of what they’ll have to tell you. Are they ill? Is someone dying? Are you dying? Their voices will reach into the room and grab onto you, holding you still against your will.

“Don’t ignore me, you asshole, listen to me. I’m—” you break free and cover your ears blocking out the shrill sound of the voices. When you can hear the sneaking whispers creep past the spaces between your fingers, though small, you scream and scream until blood stains the floors of your tiny room.

After a while, you learn their names. Sometimes it’s Tony, or Patricia, or Yuzuyu—the ones you hear the most.

Tony is rough, he smokes and enjoys whisky, you imagine firm muscles with a voice sweet like honey. He is your favourite. His words are always kind and encouraging. He envelopes you in a fever you never want to cool down from.

You think Patricia is old, her voice has the lilt of experience, but she is cruel and tells you you’re a waste of space like the buzzing of a fruit fly on a rotten apple. You do not like her very much. The words she spits at you through the insulation and plaster cut into you like the knives you keep out of your room.  

Yuzuyu is meek, you know this because she sounds just like you—small and frail, smiling on the outside to hide the frowning on the inside. You often find yourself facing the wall when you hear her, reaching out and pressing the palm of your hand against the peachy wallpaper. You never say anything to comfort her, because you decide there would be no point. If she is at the level you are, there are no words that can bring her out of it.  

The days when you do not hear from any of them are the worst. The only things you are left with is the groaning of the beast and the silence it leaves behind. That gnawing quiet that allows something so much worse than the beast to crawl through the rips in your wallpaper. A darkness that clouds over your small open window, blocking out the much needed sun.

It makes you feel so much more alone than you already were.

You live in a 5x5 closet with peach wallpaper cracking up along the corners of the room. It smells of dried urine, hand sanitizer and stale saltine crackers. You can’t think of the last time you got out of your single bed with the intent on going to the bathroom or kitchen. You have a pamphlet sitting on your bedside table, now stained with spilt orange juice, that says Self-Help for Beginners—it has gone unread.

So much of your day is spent with two springs from your mattress digging into your spine, waiting to hear a familiar voice just beyond your room. Occasionally you will hear the creaking of a floorboard or the sniffling of a nose—but none of which belong to the ones you care about.

“…sandwich?”

Your heart leaps and you sit up, your mattress creaks in surprise at your sudden movement. You press your ear to the cool surface and listen to what sounds like Tony talking.

Tony laughs, “Are you there, sweetheart? I asked if you wanted a sandwich.”

You try to reply but all that comes out is a cracking sound that makes your eyes water.

“Babe?”

You clear your throat as best as you can and say, “Yes, I’m here.”

“Do you want a sandwich? I can pick you up one on my run,” you imagine he is stretching right now—all of those taut muscles rippling beautifully.  

“Yes, I would like that.” You finally reply.

Your voice had barely been over a whisper but Tony says, “You want your usual? With the olives?”

You hate olives but you never tell him differently. He never ends up remembering to get you the sandwich, so there is no point in telling him to order something else. “Yes, please,” you smile, “I love olives.”

“Alright well I better go get you that sandwich, charge your phone so I can call you later,” Tony says but you’re having trouble hearing over the low hum that is progressively getting louder before it turns into a groan. Fear strikes deep into your heart. It is that… That beast. You have always thought Tony to be brave for facing the beast head on and coming out alive. Not everyone comes back after stepping into its lair. Tony does, however, Tony always does. “Okay I’ve got to go, talk to you later.”

Emotion fills you and you press the palm of your hand to the wall, imagining you are cupping Tony’s cheek, “Promise me you’ll come back,” you say.

“Of course, babe. Bye,” by the time he says this the low hum is now a deafening roar. You don’t have a chance to say goodbye before it takes Tony away.

The moment you can no longer hear it, you get out of your bed and rummage through the trash in your room. You push past rotten fruit, fast food wrappers and dirty underwear until you find your phone. It is an older model, one that was gifted to you by someone who’s name you don’t care to remember. You plug it into the cord that you’ve never unplugged since moving in 5 years ago.

A moment passes before the screen lights up with a black apple in the center. You are sure you smile at the prospect of Tony calling you—it is the first time you have smiled in a while.

You move to go back to your bed when you hear a ping come from the now awake phone. You look down at the screen and see you have eighteen new text messages from a number your phone doesn’t recognise. You don’t either.

10:34am: Are you okay?

Something twists anxiously inside of you but you delete the texts and go back to your bed. You bury yourself in your thin blankets and strain your ears to hear for Tony’s return. You are not one to pray, but you hope that the beast will return Tony to you unscathed.

You wake up, not even realising you had fallen asleep, to the sound of someone crying.

You raise your head up off of your pillow and see that night has fallen in the sky. Your room is pitch black. Dread washes over you like cold shower when you realise that if it has gotten this late, Tony has already returned home without your olive sandwich. You expected this, but it doesn’t hurt any less. You remember his promise to call you, so you grab your phone and see you have one missed text message—from the same unknown number.

22:46pm: Mom is worried about you.

You ignore it.

What you do not ignore is the crying that is continually getting louder. You inch towards the wall and you feel as if you are directly beside the person.

“Are you okay?” You ask them.

There is a sniffle and a meager voice, “My life is over.”

It is Yuzuyu. Sweet, petite Yuzuyu.

“I-I can’t pay my rent. I’m failing all of my classes. I am going to get fired from my job because I can’t freaking waste 8 hours working when I could be studying. I don’t know what to do,” what she says after that is muffled through her tears and the wall separating you. “C-Can you loan me some money? Just to pay my rent for this month.”

You frown because you know you are in worse shape than she is but you ask her, “How much?”

“A-About 600 dollars,” she says tentatively and you almost choke on air, “I know it’s a lot b-but I can’t get evicted. I can’t. Please.”

You get out of bed and grab a jar you used to keep extra money in. Your sister made you this jar when you were children, so you could save up money to buy the books you liked. It has been months since you last slipped a bill through it’s jagged slit on the top. You pop open the former strawberry jam jar and you find only $350.

“I don’t have enough.”

Yuzuyu hiccups, “Any amount is fine.”

“How do I get it to you?”

Your phone pings and distracts you from Yuzuyu. It is another text from the mystery number.

22:53pm: I’m really worried about you. Please text me back.

“Hello?” Yuzuyu calls out.

“I’m here,” you reply, “h-how do you want me to give you this money?”

“No, it’s fine.” She sounds happier, but the sadness is still there lying beneath the false smile she wears. “I should let you go before he wonders where you’ve gone.”

“Who?” You hear yourself ask.

She ignores the question, “You don’t know how much this means to me, truly. Thank you.”

You aren’t exactly sure what she is thanking you for, nonetheless you shrug it off, “Anytime.” Yuzuyu says nothing else and you no longer feel her presence on the other side of the wall.

You pull your knees against your chest as the creeping pit of loneliness reaches you once more. Its elongated, boney arms wrap around you and cover you in a sheet of ice. It is July but it might as well be December.

The now familiar ping of your phone goes off again. Hesitantly, you pick up the old phone and read on the screen: 23:01pm: Jesus Christ, please pick up. Mom says she hasn’t heard from you in weeks. I texted Nate and he hasn’t heard from you either. I am this fucking close to buying a ticket and flying in to see if you’re okay. Just… Give me a goddamn sign that you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere.

You tap your fingers against the side of the phone. You should text back and tell this stranger they’ve got the wrong number. You should be kind and wish them the best in finding the person they’re looking for.

Instead, you don’t want that. If whoever they’re trying to reach isn’t responding, then they should leave them alone. They obviously do not want to be reached. The darkness you are wearing seeps into your pores and it taps out a reply. It presses send before it gives you a chance to read over what its written. You throw the phone across the room and it hits the opposite wall with a thud, before falling and cracking against the floor. The screen illuminates the darkness of your room and you hide yourself beneath your quilt. Praying to the God you don’t believe in it will block out the light for good.

23:07pm: Leave me alone.

“You stupid fucking whore!”

You wake to Patricia. You haven’t heard from her in a while. You were growing concerned about her health. You know from her coughing that she’s an avid smoker, you feared she was dying of lung disease.

Patricia sounds angry at you today—like every other day, “Are you listening to me, you bitch?”

“S-Sorry, I just woke up,” your voice is thick with sleep. You sit up and you can hear the constant pinging coming from your phone on the floor. You try to block it out and put your attention on Patricia.

“You’re always comin’ up with goddam excuses. Can you be a normal human for once and answer when your fucking phone rings?” Patricia barks.

“I-I didn’t hear it ring, I’m sorry. W-What was is it you wanted?” You slip out of bed and your back seizes angrily. You fumble to the floor and cry out quietly.

“What did I want?! Girl, you’ve got a fucking storm coming if you’re going to talk to me like that!” Patricia breaks to cough loudly. You take the moment of freedom to scoot across your cluttered floor to pick up your now broken phone. You have 4 text messages from the same unknown number and 1 missed call—nothing from Patricia.

23:08pm: What??

23:10pm: I’m going to call you! Please pick up.

1 Missed Call from Unknown Caller.

23:48pm: You’re scaring me. Please call me back.

Good, you think, maybe then they’ll leave you alone.

00:02am: I’m buying my plane ticket right now. The moment I get off the plane I’m coming to see you whether or not you want to see me. You have no choice in the matter anymore.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me you fucking dumbass?” Patricia pierces through the wall and slaps you in the face.

“I-I was reading a text,” you tell her but she goes off on another tangent using harsh words you’ve never heard before. You tune her out as the phone in your hand begins to vibrate and reads on the screen Incoming Call. Somewhere inside of you, you contemplate ignoring it but on a reflex, you swipe answer. “Hello?”

“Oh my god, you answered.” There is something familiar about their voice. Something you cannot place. “We’ve—I’ve—Everyone has been worried about you.”

“Why?” You ask the stranger.

“Why? Y-You have been MIA for weeks now, dude. No one has heard from you. You aren’t answering texts, for a while your phone went straight to voicemail. God, where have you been? What have you been doing?” Patricia throws something at the wall and it makes a noise loud enough for the stranger to hear, “What was that?”

“It was Patricia,” you tell them.

“Patricia? Who is Patricia? Why is she throwing things? Why are you with someone throwing things? Jesus, what have you gotten yourself into?”

For some reason, this angers you. They don’t know Patricia. They don’t know you. How dare they ask questions about your life? About how things are?

“I said this over text but you need to leave me alone.” You hang up before they have a chance to argue with you.

You barely acknowledge that Patricia has left after being swallowed by the gurgling beast on the other side of the wall. A darkness much worse than any other you’ve been attacked by breaks through the rips in your peach wallpaper and strikes you. You feel as if you are drowning on the putrid air in your room. The droning sound of the beast outside slams against your ears with the force of a car.

You’re falling. Falling into the dangerous unknown the darkness brings along with it and you are terrified. The sunshine in your room is blocked by its monstrous size. You are left in complete darkness at 8 in the morning. You pray to the God you’re starting to believe in to just end it all and free you from this torture.

Darkness’s skin is scorned with black ink and it has no eyes sunken into its skull. You blink, thinking you’re imagining the silhouette in front of you. The straightness of its posture, the curve of its hips, the way its hands tremble around the keys it holds in one and the phone in the other.

When Darkness speaks to you, you can’t even muster the strength to be afraid. You’ve asked for this. You’ve prayed for this and here it has come. You hope that the pain you feel is brief and swift, like the peeling of a band-aid or like the bleeding of wrists against a white tiled floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Darkness stares at you, “what the fuck happened?” You don’t reply. You lay your head back down on your pillow and shut your eyes, expecting Darkness to devour you like it has done so many times before. Darkness, however, reaches out and shakes your shoulders gently. “Hey, come on, let me help you get up.” Darkness pulls you up out of bed, its hands not as cold as they have been in the past. In fact, they’re quite warm. “When was the last time you showered, hmm?” Darkness runs its fingers through your hair. Fingers catch in the matts that have taken hostage of your youthful curls. “Come on, let’s go get you washed up.”

You finally speak, “I don’t want to,” and you flinch away from their kind touch.

You don’t move very fast and Darkness catches you before you can retreat to your bed. It brings you into your shower, a room you haven’t seen in a very long time, you’ve forgotten how bright the florescent lights are.

Darkness pulls your shirt and soiled bottoms off and pushes you under a warm spray of water. “Can you manage on your own?” Darkness asks you while handing you a bottle of shampoo.

You stare at the container and nod. Darkness leaves you and you immediately drop to the floor. You don’t understand what is happening. You don’t understand why Darkness is helping you.

“…it is so bad, Nate. I have never seen them like this. I-It’s… I need you to call the doctor’s or something. I’ll drive them there and take care of everything. Just tell the doctor’s we’re on our way.”

Darkness comes back into the bathroom, they watch you as you sit in the corner of the shower and they say, “I’ve got to go.” They hang up the phone and come towards you, “Pass me the shampoo.”

Darkness washes your hair.

You are reminded of your childhood.

“I saw that jar in your room,” they say, “the one we made when we were kids. I-I didn’t think you’d still have it.” You remember you need to pay Yuzuyu. “Do you remember when we made it? Mom and Dad didn’t want to spend money on the books you wanted. You were so upset. I can remember you had strawberry jam stuck to your face and I decided to make you a money jar. God, that was… Eighteen years ago, now?”

You mumble incoherently, “Sixteen.”

Darkness smiles, “Yeah. Sixteen.” They rinse your hair and they say, “I shouldn’t have moved away. I-I was always the one who noticed when you were feeling down. Mom and Dad, they’re not the most observant people in the world. Nate is, well, he’s Nate. I should have been here for you… Maybe you wouldn’t have,” Darkness stops and finishes rinsing your hair. They stand and grab a clean towel off of the counter.

You stand and Darkness dries you, before pulling an oversized t-shirt over your head. Darkness pets your damp hair and goes to say something but the beast from your wall begins to grumble. You run out of the room and slam yourself against the peach coloured wallpaper.

“…olives?”

“Tony,” you breathe.

“Tony?” Darkness enters the room questioningly. “Who is Tony?”

“Sometimes I can hear the walls talking to me,” you tell Darkness and you can hear their intake of shock, “Sometimes they’re loud and quiet. T-They always get eaten by the beast,” you tap your finger harshly against the wall, “it r-roars so loud and it always takes them away.”

“What are you talking about?” Darkness moves closer towards you, “What beast?”

“The beast,” you start to pound your fist against the wallpaper, anger sparks in every nerve of your body, “it comes every hour and it takes people! It takes them away!”

Darkness grasps your shoulder, “Come on, get down from there.” You can hear the low hum of the beast coming from down below. Tony’s voice is barely audible over it and the continuous pounding of your hand against the cracking plaster, “Come on,” Darkness tries.

You jerk away from its touch and you hear the beast reach Tony. You leap off your bed and run through your apartment, entering rooms you haven’t seen in a millennium. You push through the front door and run down the aged carpet to where you know Tony will be. Darkness is behind you, you can feel it trying to grab at your t-shirt. Darkness wants Tony to be taken. It has always been this way. Darkness and the beast are Thelma and Louise. Today they are driving over the cliff.

“—how is your phone always dying in the morning?”

           Tony stands there, in all of his exercising glory. He is just as you imagined. His muscles, his facial hair, the stained fingertips from his cigarette smoking.

           Tony stands there, about to step into the beast. You lunge at him, grabbing onto his muscle shirt and throwing him to the ground. Something falls, it is a phone. “What the fuck?” Tony cries out in pain.

“Oh my God,” Darkness shouts and pulls you away from him.

“No!” You scream, “Don’t get into it! It’s going to take you! It’s going to take you away from me!” Doors open all along the hallway—Yuzuyu, Patricia, the ones you didn’t care to name.

“Call the cops,” you hear someone say.

“No!” Darkness says, “I’ve got it handled.”

“Good,” Tony spits, “fucking crazy bitch.”

Something inside of you breaks.

Tony picks up the fallen phone, “Sorry babe, the crazy lady from Apartment 5 attacked me. Yeah, I’m just getting into the elevator. I’ll call you when I get back from my bike ride,” Tony steps into the beast and the doors close. Its groan echoes as it carries him away.  

You’re crying into the mold coloured shag, Darkness hovers over you. They’re rubbing your back gently, “You need help.”

You have a pamphlet sitting on your bedside table, now stained with dry orange juice, that says Self-Help for Beginners. Below the title are the words, “Do not be afraid to ask for help.”

Darkness kisses your head as they buckle you into their car. Before they can pull away, you grab their wrist. Your hands shaking from the adrenaline dying in your veins. “Is something wrong?” Your gaze is fixed across the parking lot, at Tony, who is getting off of his bike. He has a Subway sub poking out of his backpack. You bet it has olives in it. Darkness shakes you, “What is it?”

“I don’t like olives.” You say, “I never have.” You look to Darkness, who isn’t as scary as you first thought. Their eyes are kind, their skin is a blank slate with no tattoo in sight. They are not the beast you thought they were, just as the elevator is not a monster devouring people and your walls are not talking to you. You are not okay. You’re afraid of the world you created in your 5x5 closet of a room. You’re afraid of the monster you created from the old motor of an elevator. You’re afraid of yourself. You suck in a watery breath and say, “I think I need help.”

[salonandspadecrist-blog]

Our Massage Services

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The best massage Lees Summit MO has to offer is at Salon & Spa De Crist and we can’t wait to meet you! Top Rated Massage in Lees Summit Missouri uses the Rain Drop Technique. This specific technique helps bring balance and harmony to the body. Life can get so busy this time of year, so try the best massage in Lees Summit MO to relieve the stress and muscle aches.

More About Lee’s Summit, MO

Founded as the "Town of Strother", by William B. Howard for his wife, Maria D. Strother (daughter of William D. Strother formerly of Bardstown, Kentucky). Howard came to Jackson County in 1842 from Kentucky, married Maria in 1844, and by 1850 he and Maria had 833 acres (3.37 km2) and a homestead five miles (8 km) north of town. There was also another town called Strother. He was arrested for being a Confederate in October 1862, near the beginning of the Civil War, and after being paroled he took his family back to Kentucky for the duration of the war. After the war ended he returned and, knowing that the Missouri Pacific Railroad was surveying a route in the area, platted the town with 70 acres (280,000 m2) in the fall of 1865 as the town of Strother.[8][9]

In 1865 the town of Strother changed its name for early settler Dr. Pleasant John Graves Lea, who moved to Jackson County in 1849, from Bradley County, Tennessee. Lea was listed as the postmaster of Big Cedar in the 1855 United States Official Postal Guide.[10] Dr. Lea was killed in August 1862 by Kansas Jayhawkers (or Redlegs).[11]

When the surveyors for the Missouri Pacific Railroad came through, the local people and the railroad wanted to name the town in Dr. Lea's honor. He had a farm on the highest point and near the path of the tracks, and his murder had taken place near the site of the proposed depot. So they chose the name of "Lea's Summit", the "summit" portion to reflect its relatively highest elevation on the Missouri Pacific Railroad between St. Louis and Kansas City.[12] But they misspelled the name "Lees Summit" (with two "e's"; "Lee" instead of "Lea"; and leaving out the apostrophe) on a boxcar that was serving as a station and donated by the Missouri Pacific,[13] then a sign next to the tracks, and finally in the printed time schedule for the railroad.[14] Legend states that the name was spelled wrong on the side of the Missouri Pacific depot and has remained Lee's Summit ever since. [15][16]

Others, claim that the town was named after famed Civil War General Robert E. Lee after Southerners began moving north into Missouri after the war due to the timing of General Lee's death compared to Dr. Lea's death.[8][12] Attributed to a quote in the Louisville Journal, January 3, 1866.[14]

Since the name was already being circulated and published with two "e's", the town petitioned the state legislature and incorporated its name in 1868 as: "Town of Lee's Summit".[8][12]

The apostrophe in the town's name is unusual, in that most possessive place names lack an apostrophe, (i.e. Harpers Ferry, West Virginia and Boardmans Point, New Hampshire) while Lee's Summit has one. Apostrophes are typically not included in place names due to potential confusion, as it may imply that the place is owned by the person it is named after.

FAQ’s:

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Sources: 

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https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1CAHKDC_enUS843&ei=8VazXbCVEce7tgWu-KjYBw&q=benefits+of+massage&oq=benefits+of+massage&gs_l=psy-ab.3..0i67j0l6j0i67j0l2.21018.22977..23032...0.2..1.231.2092.6j11j1....3..0....1..gws-wiz.......0i71j0i131.8KBivx6feFE&ved=0ahUKEwjw0YyLnLjlAhXHna0KHS48CnsQ4dUDCAs&uact=5

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[abckidstvyara]

Any company that’s looking to replace the over 5 billion pounds of ground beef making its way onto tables in the U.S. every year with a meatless substitute is going to need a lot of cash.

It’s a big vision with lots of implications for the world — from climate change and human health to challenging the massive, multi-billion dollar industries that depend on meat — and luckily for Impossible Foods (one of the many companies looking to supplant the meat business globally), the company has managed to attract big name investors with incredibly deep pockets to fund its meatless mission.

In the seven years since the company raised its first $7 million investment from Khosla Ventures, Impossible Foods has managed to amass another $389 million in financing — most recently in the form of a convertible note from the Singaporean global investment powerhouse Temasek (which is backed by the Singaporean government) and the Chinese investment fund Sailing Capital (a state-owned investment fund backed by the Communist Party-owned Chinese financial services firm, Shanghai International Group).

“Part of the reason why we did this as a convertible note, is that we knew we would increase our valuation with the launch of our business,” says David Lee, Impossible Foods chief operating officer. “We closed $114 million in the last 18 months.” The company raised its last equity round of $108 million in September 2015.

Lee declined to comment on the company’s path to profitability, valuation, or revenues.

Impossible began selling its meat substitute back in 2016 with a series of launches at some of America’s fanciest restaurants in conjunction with the country’s most celebrated young chefs.

David Chang (of Momofuku fame in New York) and Traci Des Jardins of Jardiniére and Chris Cosentino of Cockscomb signed on in San Francisco, while Tal Ronnen of Crossroads in Los Angeles were among the first to

“When we launched a year ago, we were producing out of a pilot facility,” says Impossible co-founder Pat Brown. [Now] we have a full-fledged production facility 2.5 million pounds per month at the end of the year.”

The new facility, which opened in Oakland last year has its work cut out for it. Impossible has plans to expand to Asia this year and is now selling its meat in over 1,000 restaurants around the U.S.

Some would argue that the meat substitute has found its legs in the fast casual restaurant chains that now dot the country, serving up mass-marketed, higher price point gourmet burgers. Restaurants including FatBurger, Umami Burger, Hopdoddy, The Counter, Gott’s and B Spot — the Midwest burger restaurant owned by Chef Michael Symon  — all hawk Impossible’s meat substitute in an increasing array of combinations.

“When we started looking at what pat and the team at Impossible was doing we saw a perfect fit with the values and mission that Impossible has to drive a stronger mindset around what it is to be conscientious about what is going on,” says Umami Burger chief executive Daniel del Olmo.

Since launching their first burger collaboration last year, Umami Burger has sold over 200,000 Impossible Burgers. “Once people tried the burger they couldn’t believe that it was not meat,” says del Olmo. “They immediately understood that it was a product that they could crave. We are seeing 38% increase in traffic leading to 18% sales growth [since selling the burger].”

At $13 a pop, the Impossible Umami Burger is impossible for most American families to afford, but pursuing the higher end of the market was always the initial goal for Impossible’s founder, Patrick Brown.

A former Stanford University professor and a serial entrepreneur in the organic food space (try his non-dairy yogurts and cheeses!), Brown is taking the same path that Elon Musk used to bring electric vehicles to the market. If higher end customers with discerning palates can buy into meatless burgers that taste like burgers, then the spending can subsidize growth (along with a few hundred million from investors) to create economics that will become more favorable as the company scales up to sell its goods at a lower price point.

Brown recognizes that 2.5 million pounds of meat substitute is no match for a 5 billion pound ground beef juggernaut, but it is, undeniably a start. And as long as the company can boost sales for the companies selling its patties, the future looks pretty bright. ‘”To get to scale you have to sell to a higher price-point,” says Brown.

That approach was the opposite tack from Beyond Meat, perhaps the only other well-funded competitor for the meatless crown. Beyond Meat is selling through grocery stores like Whole Foods in addition to partnerships of its own with chains like TGIFridays and celebrity backers like Leonardo DiCaprio.

“From a brand building standpoint it would have been insane for us to launch in supermakerts given that we had the opportunity to launch with great companies like Umami and great chefs like Dave Chang,” says Brown. 

Heme is their best shot

  At the heart of the Impossible Food’s meatless revolution is the development of a vegetable-based heme molecule.

Heme is present in most living things and, according to Impossible Foods, it’s the molecule that gives meat its flavor. The company says that it’s the presence of the heme molecule in muscle that makes meat taste like meat. Impossible Foods engineers and ferments yeast to produce that heme protein naturally found in plants, called soy leghemoglobin.

“It’s the iron containing molecule that carries oxygen in the blood… what makes meat red or pink… It’s essential for every living cell on earth,” says Brown. “The thing that we discovered was that pretty much the entire flavor experience of meat that distinguishes it from all over foods is due to heme. Heme transforms fatty acids into the bloody flavored odorant molecules and when you cook meat, the protein that holds the meat at a certain temperature unfolds and lets loose.”

Brown says Impossible Foods can make fish flavors, chicken flavors, and pork flavors already, but is going to stick to ground beef for the foreseeable future.

The next trick for the company is to manipulate the flavor profile of its meat substitute so its burgers can win in blind taste tests against any other combination of meat patty.

“The company’s mission is to completely replace animals in the food system by 2035,” says Brown. “The only way to do it is to do a better job than any animal at producing the most nutritious, delicious, affordable, and versatile foods. And it will be a very interesting proof of concept landmark when we have a burger that is — for flavor and deliciousness — the best burger on earth… that’s going to send a very important signal to the world.”

The global impact

If Impossible Foods, Beyond Meat or any of their competitors that are working on developing cultured meat cells in a lab are successful it has huge implications for the world.

These lab-grown meats and meat substitutes could use up to 75% less water, generate 87% fewer greenhouse gases and require 95% less land than what’s used for meat production.

Those statistics have attracted investors like the Open Philanthropy Project, Temasek, Bill Gates and Horizons Ventures (backed by the Hong Kong billionaire Li Ka Shing). Those billionaire backers have invested in multiple rounds of funding for the company alongside other early financiers including Google Ventures, UBS and Viking Global Investors.

The fundamental economics are so much more favorable for us than for the cow,” says Brown. 

Those economics could also be compelling for potential meat production partners, he says. Brown envisions a potential future where production facilities that use fermentation processes could be used to manufacture the company’s ingredients to get to scale. “In order to scale rapidly we didn’t want to have to build the entire supply chain from the farm up.”

Given that the main ingredients are wheat, potato, and the manufactured heme protein, there’s a chance that the company could actually create an alternative supply chain to the meat packers, butchers, and slaughterhouses that dominate the landscape.

The meat industry has taken notice and is beginning to push back.

According to a report in USA Today, the U.S. Cattlemen’s association filed a 15-page petition with the U.S. Department of Agriculture earlier this year calling for an official definition of the terms “beef” and “meat”.

“While at this time alternative protein sources are not a direct threat to the beef industry, we do see improper labeling of these products as misleading,” said Lia Biondo, the association’s policy and outreach director, in a statement. “Our goal is to head off the problem before it becomes a larger issue.”

For Brown, it’s another step along the road of how humans sustain themselves. “People act as if science and technology have been outside of the food system,” he says. “The whole food system is a combination of nature and science that makes the food that we eat come into being.”

[meditativeyoga]

Baptiste Yoga: 9 Poses to Spring Ahead + Recharge Your Practice

Master Baptiste Yoga teacher Leah Cullis, that leads YJ's on-line course Pillars of Power Yoga (sign up here), shows 9 presents to assist you stir up and also ready for the power of spring.

March signals the awakening of springtime, a brand-new period of development as well as revival. It's time to arise from the internal time of the winter season, charge your yoga technique, and stir up the power to spring ahead. The adhering to presents will beam new light within as we awaken and available to the power of springtime. Like nature, we'll relocate with a gorgeous, purposeful rhythm.

To begin: plant ujjayi breath. Let the audio as well as warming up temperature of your breath be your anchor into your body system. Warmer up with 3-- 5 rounds each of Sunlight Salutation An and also Sunlight Salutation B. Keep in mind: A block is required for this sequence.

Low Lunge, customized with hooked thumbs

Anjaneyasana

From Downward-Facing Pet dog, step your ideal foot to the top of your floor covering, set your left knee down, and even hug in towards your centerline to stabilize. Raise your arms and breast high. Linked your thumbs overhead, lift your shoulders towards your ears, as well as draw your arm bones onto your back. Origin down with your legs, and also expand your fingertips up and also back as you open as well as expand for 5 or even more complete breaths.

Half Split

Keep your left knee to the mat, change your hips back over your left knee, correct your appropriate leg, and also flex your ideal foot for Half Split. Make use of a block to assist your right-hand man if needed, and even capture the outer edge of your left foot with your left hand. Inhale, entered into a halfway lift to lengthen your spine, hinge at your hips, fold forward on your exhale, and also bow over your extended leg. Draw back on the external side of your front foot, and hug your leg muscles to the bones. Permit the stress to thaw from your hamstrings and also low back as you take a breath and also hold for 5-- 10 balanced breaths. To come out of the present, change your weight back into your appropriate foot, plant your hands to the top of your mat and press back to Downward-Facing Pet dog. Repeat Low Lunge as well as Fifty percent Split on the left side.

Fire Toes Pose

From Downward-Facing Pet dog, stroll midway up your floor covering as well as drop down to your knees into a kneeling placement. Tuck your toes under as well as kick back on your heels, extending the muscles of your feet open. Embrace your inner ankle joints together, press your legs toward your centerline, as well as raise your hands to Petition. Anchor your tailbone down, raise your reduced belly, and even take a breath steadily as you remain to feed your internal fire. Stay and hold for 10 deep breaths. To amplify the power, include in arm movement related to breath. On your inhale, circle your arms out and also open up like wings and also unite your hands overhead. With your exhale, trace your Petition hands down your centerline, as well as begin the round motion again with your following inhale. To come from the pose, bring your palms to the ground, untuck your toes, as well as flap out your feet on your floor covering. Make your way to your seat and even onto your back.

Supported Bridge Pose

This time of year, I like including some added time in Supported Bridge to open my reduced back as well as hips as well as to assist prepare my body for complete Wheel Pose. Rest on your back and even location your feet hip-width apart, with your knees stacked over your heels. Tilt your hips as well as extend your tailbone to the top of your mat. Ground down via all four edges of both feet, raise your hips up, and slide your block under your sacrum (reduced back). It might take a few tries to discover the bony wonderful spot at the base of your back, and even the elevation of your block that works finest for you. Once you find it, clear up in as well as allow your body to be assisted by your block as well as your floor covering. Try prolonging your arms overhead or your legs long, if that supports you in your breath and even launch. Hold for 10 breaths or longer. Ahead down, press your feet right into your mat to raise your hips, glide your block sideways, and also gradually lower down into your back.

Wheel Pose

Urdhva Dhanurasana

Lie down on your back, flex your knees, and put your feet hip-distance apart with your feet dealing with 12 o'clock. Set your hands over your shoulders by your ears, wider than your shoulders, with your fingers encountering back toward your body system. Set your strong foundation as well as generate your breath. With an inhale, weigh down into the ground and also expand your Link in Wheel Pose. Allow your whole front as well as side body to open up while you power up your back, legs, as well as shoulders. Spin your internal thighs down to the ground and also raise your external hipbones up. Hold for 5-- 10 energizing breaths. Slowly boil down, draw your knees right into your upper body, and also when you are prepared, come near a seat.

Supported Headstand variations

Salamba Sirsasana variations

Come to your knees as well as bring your lower arms to the floor. Capture your opposite hand to your other bicep to set up proper range between your elbows. Intertwine your fingers, including your thumbs, and also press the base of your palms together. It is basic to establish proper distance of your arms and to create an equilateral triangular at the base before you go up right into Headstand. Press the crown of your head to the ground with your skull pressed against the basket you've made with your hands. Look to your knees as well as make certain your eyes are identical to the mat. Correct your legs and enter into a changed Downward-Facing Pet. Walk your feet onward toward your arms until you stack your hips over your shoulders. When your spinal column is lined up, pause as well as take advantage of the still factor within your core. Plunge into your breath as well as create your flow. Tuck your knees into your upper body and squeeze your heels toward your glutes. Weigh down via your arms, when you prepare, straighten your knees and even bring your whole body into an upright line. To produce the lively energy of springtime, play with leg variations. Attempting flexing both knees for pinwheel legs, Eagle legs, or a broad straddle. Hold for 10-- 20 breaths. Slowly come down, hinging at your hips, and even make your means into Child's Posture to reset.

Legs-Up-the-Wall Pose

Viparita Karani

Scoot one hip beside a wall surface, rest on your back, and also lift your upper hands the wall surface. You could additionally place your block under your sacrum and lift your heels to the sky. Allow the weight of your legs establish your upper leg bones back and also increase your reduced back. Maintain your legs active but very easy as well as enable the energy as well as blood to move from your legs to your important organs. This pose is a passive and also sustained inversion, permitting the blood from your legs to stream back into your waistline (I recommend executing Legs-Up-the-Wall anytime you have to restore and also reset your energy). Expand your arms at hands and transform your palms around the sky as a sign that you are open as well as prepared to obtain. Hold for 10-- 20 breaths.

Wide Legs-Up-the-Wall Pose

From Leg-Up-the-Wall Pose, expand your heels far apart and enter a wide straddle. Bend your feet, disperse your toes, and kick your heels away from you. Give yourself an assist by pressing your palms to the tops of your upper legs, right by your hip crease, and even pushing your upper leg bones toward the wall. Permit your reduced back to extend. Hold for 10-- 20 breaths. To launch, capture the outsides of your thighs as well as delicately bring your legs back together. Embrace your knees to your upper body and run far from the wall.

Twist with Eagle Legs

On your back, cover your appropriate leg over your left upper leg, creating Eagle legs. Twist both legs to the left, turn your gaze over your right shoulder, and even extend your right arm right out from your shoulder. Position your left hand to the top of your best leg to assist deepen your twist. This gentle, shutting spin develops adaptability in the mid- and also lower back as it washes the organs of the waistline, which enhances general wellness and even wellness. Hold for 10 breaths and even repeat on the left side.

[meditativeyoga]

Baptiste Yoga: 8 Warming Winter Poses

Master Baptiste Yoga exercise instructor Leah Cullis, who will certainly lead Yoga Journal's upcoming online training course Columns of Power Yoga exercise (sign up here to be the very first to know when this health and fitness- and also focus-boosting course launches), aids you heat up for winter with these 8 heat-building poses that stir your inner fire and obtain you deeper right into your body.

Get Started

Breathe: Cultivate Ujjayi breath. Breathing slowly with your nose, a little restrict the back of your throat and also begin to heat up the body with intentional breath. Allow the sound and warming temperature level of your breath be your anchor into your body. Warm up: Beginning with 3 rounds each of Sun Salutation A and Sun Salutation B.

Plank

Come into a high push-up position, stack your shoulders over your wrists, as well as hug your arm muscular tissues to the bones. Origin your knuckles down into your floor covering and also look down, settling your drishti (look) in between your hands. Spread across your collarbones. Reach the top of your head onward as well as push your heels away. Lift your low stomach up as well as in, feeding your inner fire as you hold for 5 breaths.

Side Plank

Vasisthasana

Ground down via your left hand, dial both heels to the left, as well as raise your right arm to the sky. Planning to your leading hand and also spread your fingers vast. Lift your hips as high as you could as well as open your upper body. Hold for 5 breaths.

Side Plank Variation

To increase the pose, bend your feet, activate your legs, and increase your ideal leg high, getting to with your toes. Moving from your core center, bend your leading knee right into your breast, and also catch your knee with your top hand. Pull every little thing up and also into maintain. Mindfully construct the development step-by-step over 5 breaths. Gracefully tip your appropriate foot onward to the top of the mat.

High Lunge, Crescent Variation

Ground down right into all 4 edges of your front foot, squeeze your internal thighs toward each other, and also construct your strong structure for your position. On your inhale, raise your arms as well as chest high. Attract power up from your legs right into your core, as well as from your core origin down right into the earth. Clear up in as well as hold for 5 balanced breaths. Lift your reduced tummy and scissor your internal thighs in towards your centerline.

Crescent Twist with Open Arms

Reach your left arm ahead as well as right arm to the rear of your floor covering for an open arm twist (note: opposite displayed in picture). Send your tailbone down, lift through your low tummy, as well as extend up through your crown. Stretch your arms away from each various other, and sparkle out across your breast. Ride your breath: with each inhale lengthen the sides of your upper body, and spin a lot more with each exhale. Produce heat from your core as you grow your twist and also hold for 5 full rounds of breath. Loosen up. Vinyasa through to the other side (plant hands, exhale, as well as leap or go back to Chaturanga, then move through Upward-Facing Canine and Downward-Facing Pet), as well as begin the sequence again beyond beginning with Plank.

Boat Pose

Paripurna Navasana

Balance on your seat, prolong your heels high, and also reach your arms ahead. Trigger your feet, press the inner arches of your feet with each other, and follower your toes open. To customize, you can flex your knees to bring your shins alongside the ground, as well as catch your hands behind your knees for more assistance. Involve your low belly as well as lift your breast up and also open. Remain stable and hold for 10 warming breaths. Cross your ankles, roll over your feet, as well as go back to Downward-Facing Dog.

Fire Toes Pose

From Downward-Facing Canine, walk halfway up your mat as well as fall to your knees right into a stooping placement. Put your toes under as well as relax on your heels, flexing the muscles of your feet open. Hug your inner ankles with each other, press your legs toward your centerline, and lift your hands to Petition. Support your tailbone down, raise your low belly, and also breathe steadily as you continuously stir your internal fire. Hold for 10 breaths. To come out of the position, bring your palms to the ground, untuck your toes, and also flap out your feet on your mat. After that make your means to your seat.

Fire Log Pose

Agnistambhasana

Stack your right shin in addition to your left shin, with both legs parallel to the top of the mat. Bend your feet and maintain creating warmth with your legs. Press your by far by your hips and run your hips back a couple of inches. Lift your heart high as you breathe in and also expand your chest.

Fire Log Pose, continued

Ride your breathe out down as you fold forward. Rest your lower arms on the ground, or on a block. Drop your head as well as hold for 10 breaths or more. Slowly bring on your own support up to your seat, reverse your legs, and also repeat Fire Log posture on the various other side.