#The complete flood of unexplained terms

[datanazush]

Every once in a while I think of this utterly insane description on the Starsector wiki

[moldmanusa]

Mold Removal Atlanta

Mold Testing: When and Why You Should Get Your Home Checked

Mold can be a serious concern for homeowners, as it can negatively impact your health and your home's structural integrity. Mold Testing Atlanta is crucial in identifying and addressing these hidden mold issues. 

This article will explain the process of mold testing, when it's necessary, and how it can help safeguard your home and health.

Understanding Mold Testing: What Is It?

Mold testing is a scientific process used to determine the presence of mold in your home. 

It involves collecting samples from the air, surfaces, or both and analyzing them to detect the type and concentration of mold spores. 

The process is typically carried out by certified professional mold removal Atlanta, which uses specialized equipment to ensure accurate results.

When Is Mold Testing Necessary?

Mold testing is only sometimes required, but there are specific situations where it becomes essential. Understanding when mold testing is necessary can help you address potential issues before they become serious. 

From visible mold growth to unexplained health symptoms, there are specific situations where mold testing is not just advisable but essential for maintaining a healthy living environment.

Visible Mold Growth: 

If you notice visible mold growth in your home, it's a clear sign that mold testing is necessary. Even if the mold appears localized, testing can help determine if it has spread to other areas.

Unexplained Health Symptoms: 

If you or your family members are experiencing unexplained health issues such as respiratory problems, allergies, headaches, or skin irritations, mold could be the culprit. Mold testing can help identify if mold is present and contributing to these symptoms.

Water Damage: 

Homes that have experienced water damage from leaks, flooding, or high humidity are at high risk for mold growth. 

Mold can start growing within 24-48 hours of water exposure, so testing after water damage is crucial to prevent long-term issues.

Real Estate Transactions: 

If you're buying or selling a home, mold testing can provide peace of mind. Buyers often request mold inspections to ensure the property is mold-free before completing the purchase.

After Mold Remediation: 

If your home has undergone mold remediation, testing must confirm that the mold has been successfully removed and that the remediation was effective.

How Mold Testing Can Help

Mold testing is vital in identifying hidden mold problems that may not be visible to the naked eye. 

By pinpointing the exact location and type of mold, testing allows for targeted remediation efforts, ensuring that the mold is effectively removed and doesn't return.

Conclusion

Mold testing is valuable in maintaining a healthy and safe living environment. By understanding when and why mold testing is necessary, you can proactively protect your home and your family's health. 

If you suspect mold in your home or have experienced any of the abovementioned situations, contact us. 

Our professional mold testing services can help you identify hidden mold issues and provide peace of mind. 

Don't wait until a small problem becomes a major concern—early detection is key. Visit our website to learn more about other services like Attic Mold Removal Atlanta.

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[sadsappylee]

Inexplicable

Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a ticket fic, if you don't wanna read that scroll my dude.

Every now and then, you would get into these warm, sunny moods for no apparent reason, and Spencer couldn't figure it out.

Derek would always joke that you must've gotten laid, but as a profiler he knew how to read you well enough to know it wasn't that. He couldn't tell what it was, and that was what annoyed him.

Today was a day like that, your unusually bright disposition had been going strong for a day or two before and today was no exception. He was quite frustrated actually, angry at himself for not being able to figure out what caused these periods of peculiar behavior.

He definitely wasn't complaining, he thought that you were rather adorable when you got like that, you would smile and laugh more, joke around with Morgan, and make nerdy references with Penelope and himself. You were often times the ray of sunshine that kept the team going during hard cases, and that was especially true when you had those periods of unexplainable potential energy. You had an arsenal of unbelievably warm oversized sweaters that you seemed to reserve for specifically times like this, which he thought suited you quite well.

There were downsides, of course. You seemed so tired, what he thought was a product if not being able to sleep due to heightened energy levels. You also seemed more distant, and (though the logical side of him knew this couldn't be caused by a simple mood) he couldn't shake the feeling that even your physical body was practically freezing cold. On top of that, you seemed to recede into your head more often.

He knew from experience that that was never a good thing.

This was what you had learned was called a 'lee mood'.

You had a pretty embarrassing secret- you really liked being tickled. Maybe it was because you liked the feeling of being able to trust someone enough to be completely vulnerable and helpless with them, or because you liked having an excuse to be carefree and laugh. It gave you a chance to just let go and be happy. You liked laughing, and you guessed that that just carried into the rest of your life that way.

You had these periods of time since as long as you could remember, but you had only just stumbled across the term a few weeks past after falling down a tumblr rabbit hole late at night. See, you and Spencer were alike in many ways, but one especially stood out- your pension for research in the face of confusion.

So, being the research prone person you were, that was what you did. The amount of firewalls and incognito tabs you put up to make sure no one ever saw said research was almost ridiculous, but you needed to find out why you were the way you were, or if other people were like this too. (Basically, what the literal hell was wrong with you)

That was the answer that you got, and apparently the answer was yes, other people were like you. That was how you found out that not only were these phases normal (for some people), but they had a name. It was still embarrassing, but at least you knew you weren't alone.

There were downsides to this too, of course. It wasn't all sunshine and giggly happy rainbow dreams or whatever.

It was being even further touch starved than you were usually, to the point that you thought you might genuinely cry if someone hugged you for too long. It was being almost constantly tired but unable to sleep, and it was having reason whatsoever for feeling that way. It was yearning to feel close to anyone, emotional or physical.

Still, you didn't exactly have an outlet for these moods, so they basically just came and went as they pleased, and for now, the mood seemed impossible to shake.

It had been going pretty strong for the duration of your case, and the case was finally over. It was hour (2? 3?) Of the flight back home, and everyone in the plane was asleep, bar you and Reid, whose nose was in a book while you listened to music.

You couldn't help but watch him while you listened, he was a fascinating person to look at, (and you had a bit of a crush on him) but he was especially fascinating while he was reading. He was a speed reader, but he always looked so concentrated and entertained. He was almost as enamored with reading as you were with him, and you couldn't help but watch him. It seemed almost....intimate.

He glanced up at you for a moment. Just a moment, and you knew he had caught you staring, knew he saw you. But you couldn't drag your eyes from his, so instead, you just kept looking.

The moment ended, and he looked up, not at you, not at his book, just vaguely forwards as if he was considering something. Whatever it was, it seemed he decided on it rather quickly, looking back down and dog-earing the page of his book before folding it gently closed and setting it down.

He stood up from his seat and walked swiftly towards you, he didn't speak , just looked your way with a slight smile, before dropping down into the seat right next to you. Once situated, he began to speak.

"You know, I've been trying to figure you out for the longest time," he started, observing you as he spoke. "Half the time you're a cold, calculating realist, leaning on the cynic side, and yet the other half, you're like this," he gestured vaguely with his hand.

"Well, I'm sorry I've been troubling you," you joked, a brow raised in his direction.

He rolled his eyes, falling silent for a bit. The tentativeness he usually held resurfaced when he looked around, scratching the back of his neck.

"You don't- I know I've known you for a while, and you seem alright with physical contact, but you don't, uhm, you don't have any problems with contact, right?"

You almost had to laugh. If only he knew, with how touch-starved you were? It might be impossible for you to have a problem with physical contact.

Then again, your mind wandered.

Mainly, to why Spencer was asking you that. Heat rushed through your cheeks as you considered all the possibilities of what he could've meant by that.

"I- well no, Spence, I don't," you cleared your throat. "I don't have problems with that, why?"

"Oh good," he spoke, ignoring your question as his confidence quickly returned.

Without any more warning, he reached out and tazed you in the side with his fingers, smiling slightly as you squealed, edging away from his hand.

"Spencer! What was that for?" You chastised, more than a little flustered, sure that your could feel the blush rise in your cheeks.

"I'm just...." He trailed off as if looking for the right words, a confused look (that you would never admit to thinking was adorable) for a mere moment before his head seemed to clear. "Let's call it testing a theory."

With that his hands latched to your sides, digging into the skin there and smiling as it pulled sweet laughter from you.

"See, I think that this is what you've wanted all along. Your moods, I haven't been able to figure them out, so I kept searching. I was worried about you. I thought maybe they were manic states, but you don't have any of the other traits of bipolar disorder. Then I thought maybe something good just happened to put you in a good mood, but nothing new had happened during those times either."

"ihihihi- ihihi hahahahave noho ihidehehehea whahat youhohohoure tahahalking ahabout!" You denied, attempting to stifle your laughter and batting his hands weakly away (though you didn't really want him to stop).

"So," he continued, rolling his eyes at your denial, "I started searching symptoms; often tired but rarely sleeping, brighter moods, hightened levels of elation, loosely bounded sense of humor. Now, I didn't find anything official, per sé, but I did find a quite interesting little section of the internet that offered up a pretty simple explanation," he smiled gently, continuing that sweet form of torture, and all you could do was laugh, clutching against his shirt. You chose to bury your head in his chest and save yourself from the embarassment of your reactions to his words.

"Did you know, it actually makes sense- laughter and physical contact are the biggest suppliers of the chemical dopamine," he explained, as if he wasnt currently tickling you to pieces. "When someone is touch-starved, they lack most of the dopamine that comes from physical contact, so the brain decides that the best way to replace that missing dopamine has to be some sort of human contact that results in laughter. Ergo- tickling." You just tucked your head further into his chest, attempting to muffle your laughter in his shirt and hide your steadily reddening face.

"Spehe-spehehehenceheher!" You giggled, unsure what to say and settling on his name. You knew there wasnt much of a point trying to hide that you obviously enjoyed this from Spencer so you just sat there and took it, hiding in his shirt, though you knew that by your red ears he could tell your face was flushed.

"Yeah (y/n)?" He asked far too casually, always attentive to what you had to say, while still continuing to tickle you senseless, scratching your sides, hands worming their way under the fabric of your sweater.

"Ihihi dohohohont- ihit tihihihihicklehehes!" You whined, aware that you weren't technically complaining or asking him to stop, also aware that Spencer knew that perfectly well too.

"I know," he tsked, feigning sympathy but continuing his actions, with a smirk that you could almost SENSE on his face. Admittedly, this interaction wasn't just for your sake, he was certain that hearing your laughter and seeing you lose your typically well-maintained composure like that was bringing him quite a bit of dopamine as well.

So, instead of trying to think of something else to say, you just clutched at his shirt to stop yourself from pushing him away, trying to keep your laughter in check so as to not wake up the rest of the team as you just let yourself feel the tickly sensations flooding through your nervous system. You practically melted when he moved one of his hands to spider up and down your back, falling into snorting giggles. The other moved to flutter behind your ears, and you sighed through your giggles. Your back and ears had always been some of your worst spots, but at the same time it was incredibly soothing, the kind of thing that could put you to sleep, and the conflicting feelings absolutely maddening.

"Oh, did I find good spots?" He cooed, noticing how you went limp in his arms, aside from the occasional squirm when he brushed against a bad spot.

Your skin tinged a further red, (if that was possible) at the teasing. "...Maha*hic*haybehehehe.." you squeaked, again realizing that there wasn't a point to trying to lie to Spencer.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He stopped for a moment to give you a break and you sat up to try and catch your breath. 

"For now, i think that if we really wanna fix this mood of yours we should pull out the big guns," he teased pausing to make sure you were still doing alright before moving his one of his hands to flutter at your neck, while the other dropped to your knee and began squeezing, laughing along with you when you squealed and shot your hands up to cover your mouth and try to muffle your laughter, which had gone up significantly in volume.

He moved his hands so quickly, between squeezing at your knees, drilling his thumbs into your hips, clawing at your stomach, running his hands up and down your sides, and fluttering at your neck and ears, it felt like his fingers were everywhere at once, and you were barely holding it together. You moved to bite down on your sweater sleeve to muddle your desperate laughter, losing all coordination and thrashing as his hands continued their onslaught against your senses.

He grinned at your (franky rather adorable) reaction, laughing along quietly with you, finding it precious how you tried to hide what was clearly hysterical laughter. In reality, behind the muffling of your laughter, you felt that you were losing your mind at the sensations coursing through your veins. Still, you wouldn't have it any other way, pure glee shining through your eyes.

Just that look was worth doing the a million times over, and it was then that Spencer realized he needed/enjoyed this just as much if not more than you.

When your laughter started growing hoarse he slowly backed off, bursting into quiet laughter at the adorable, almost dissapointed puppy-dog look on your face when he stopped.

You sucked in air like you had never tasted it before, a few stray giggles slipping out to disrupt the silence. Spencer had stopped, but you could swear you still feel the ghosts of his hands against your skin, the tingling feeling still refusing to leave your body, leaving you flustered and giggly.

But you were happy.

Elated, actually. What he said about the endorphins produced from what had just transpired must've been true, because you felt almost lightheaded, warm and pleasantly tired and unable to stop smiling.

You were still on his shoulder, practically laying on him, though he had long since stopped.

Neither of you minded

You hadn't really been able to be this kind of tired in a long, long time. You felt like you could fall asleep right there and then. You'd forgotten how nice it was.

"...thank you."

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you shifted your eyes down, flushing bright red in embarassment after realizing what you had just said.

For a moment, Spencer studied you. Leaning against him, head against his shoulder, cuddling into his side.

You looked tiny.

It was the first time he'd ever really realized how strikingly small you were. In the field you were tough. You seemed so much more formidable than the fragile looking person curled into his side.

Your sweater sleeves were down way past your hands with one sleeve slipping off your shoulder and your undershirt untucked and rumpled. Your flushed complection, eyes closed, the hair sweat-stuck to your forehead, out of breath and panting slightly. You looked like you had just walked through a hurricane, the only indication of what REALLY happened being the soft smile plastered to your face, and the occasional quiet giggle slipping in between your breathing.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

"Any time," he spoke softly.

He looked down at you, and he could swear his heart melted. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and you'd never looked more peaceful.

He could get used to life being like this.

[tammyhybrid21]

On Villain Impact

SO, Guess who just rewatched UP so that I could further expand on the tea brought up in the post that ask prompted! I mean, and some general comparison moments... with plot and tone and the possible inspirations... BUT--

We're not here to explore Paradise Falls today!

So let's take this in parts so I can give each villain(and one bonus) their dues. Starting with the Pixar villain who first traumatized me in 2009.

Charles Muntz

Sooo first of all, this guy is terrifying.

Like, out of all the villains I'm here to talk about, Muntz has reached that point that there's just... something wrong and broken by the time he actually shows up on screen in his movie. Well, not his movie but-- By the time we meet him, isolation has done a number along with his single minded focus on his goal.

Muntz is... not in a good state of mind AT ALL.

BUT--

I kind of want to take it back for a moment to what triggered this. Because here's the tea-- As we see, throughout the movie with Russel and Kevin, Muntz's find was real. Birb still around even. That skeleton he displayed-- and yet--

They decried it as fake. Something he fabricated. Which hello, here's some of my related tea-- Again, this is basically that whole-- issue of if it doesn't fit with known facts, along with some of the other issues regarding the palaeontology community in general that is-- not quite the same, but--

I have many, many dinosaur issues and some of them come from how long it took people to accept feathered dinosaurs, to the fact that there has been multiple cases of evidence that dinosaurs went extinct much more recently than what we're taught in schools(middle ages, medieval art and designs and just argh--), that are just-- REJECTED. Which even included a report about still images, art and designs that are very dinosaur in nature. Or hell, the comparison of dragon legends to how dinosaur skulls and appearances are--

Not to mention there have been and are still fiascos about dinosaur bones and the whole marrow and blood cells discovered in them. Which instead of maybe assuming that means they're younger than previously assumed they're assuming that means that decay rates are off, which... yeah sure. I don't really have a degree on that, but it sounds wrong when decay has more clear and obvious examples that have been more clearly witnessed, studied-- I mean there's a whole STUDY on decay--

BUT I'M NOT AN EXPERT AND THE EARTH HAS TO BE--

Anyway-- Fossils and bones have-- such a HUGE mess. From exhibits going missing, discoveries passed over time and time again because is "doesn't fit" what was previously know, there's a whole documentary that's one guy trying to explain how there's evidence of specific species actually just being sexual dimorphism and differences in age of just one species and being mocked by the rest of the community for that view--

You know fascinating stuff--

Among other things, like I remember so clearly a documentary that used to be around where they talked about a dig site where there were modern animals preserved with animals from so, so long ago-- along with trying to explain how the very existence of Dinosaur bones and fossils proved that the Great Worldwide Flood happened.

Which-- honestly on the flood, just look at how pretty much every culture has a Great Flood story and that's already proven that something happened. WHICH is all beside the point--

But this-- THIS--

Do you know how much this happens, happened, and still probably will happen in the future?! I mean shit-- people thought the KANGAROO was FAKE NEWS once upon a time. Among-- many other of Australia's animals... also like-- think about weird animals from your own country and imagine in the olden days, sure people could travel, but that didn't mean everyone would or could and just--

How many animals sound fake but then you see them?!

In any case, there's just a very subtle background flow to this movie in that ultimately, the TRUE villains hidden in the story are the Archaeology & Palaeontology communities. Scientists.

--

Which yeah, deviation from the main point of this post, so now that we have that background detail and rant. What impact does Muntz have as a villain. Well... very clearly he's terrifying. Like, I don't think I can overstate how much I was FREAKED OUT as a baby 11 year old seeing this movie for the first time, with exaggerated memories of fire and trauma and all-- and just-- Muntz is a Pixar villain.

Which yeah--

I don't actually really have to say much in regards to how he lingers and his presence is felt all through how the movie unfolds. Even from before this reveal-- there's that sense of wrongness when you're paying attention and you just think about how the dogs act.

And well-- there's something to be stated about this scene... and how it serves as a good lead in to the next villain I would like to talk about-- But for now...

Muntz' degeneration here is subtle. Traitors, liars, people after his discovery... and some serious isolation induced paranoia.

But the heart of his motivation is that long, long ago disgrace. It's been YEARS, of hunting and trying to find the one thing. Carl's entire lifetime from childhood. His entire goal-- and what a hell of a broken pedestal that creates... but arguably, he's from a somewhat tragic perspective when you actually think how fundamentally broken he's fallen when examining the facts.

From a lauded explorer-- adventurer... to this.

Fearing and calling anyone he meets liars.

Max Mordon

Soooo before anyone says that was an abrupt-- I think that this is the PERFECT place to transition over. Because the one immediately there is... some DRASTIC contrasts between these two, despite well. Some small similar vibes to generals.

Like seriously...

Not precisely the same... but like-- Brown hair, blue eyes... and the general frame of his hair style. Max just missed some of the points and has no moustache or anything. BUT--

Max is also in direct contrast in regards to motivations. At least to the prior villain of Muntz. BUT-- Max is kind of literally the kind of people that Muntz was paranoid about. Which isn't really played for subtly in the movie, which is unfortunate, but to be fair that's a hard thing to play subtle and with all the tropes we've been exposed to nowadays-- BUT--

Max basically fell into the trap of, pedestal to break, along with what I kind of call Scooby logic, in how his presentation gave him away as a villain. And also all the older mentor characters disapproving of him.

Basically he was doomed from the framing.

Which-- isn't really the movie's fault, and in the end I would argue it actually plays to his favour to be so obvious.

Sooo I can also actually focus on other things instead of the fact we all know! Like how THERE'S just... so, so much I could say about Tad's reactions to Max throughout the movie. But that will probably take away from the focus of this rant/analysis. BUT-- Yeah, Max is set up as pretty obviously trouble to EVERYONE but the main characters.

Which... I do have opinions for another rant about how Sara would have in any other context probably noticed his fake sooner-- but Max is... "media circus" and archaeology... and more really his pursuit is-- really, really straight forwards in the context of the movie and even the greater scope.

Max is after immortality, power, and prestige. Puts great pride on his title and claim to be the "Greatest explorer". And much unlike Muntz there is no sign of ANYTHING tragic or forgiving in his background. He wasn't screwed over by the system, rather he's here using the system to screw others other.

ALSO--

Max is savvy as anything.

Like-- I don't think people will quite understand my glee at how RUTHLESS this is. But in a similar vein to Muntz, Max isn't letting anything stand in the way of his goals. Not here-- directing the Odysseus to get rid of Freddy and Tad despite them ostensibly being "no threat", which yeah... not completely for Tad as later that comes back around-- BUT-- Max is just... SAVVY in that sense that he's not taking risks.

BUT then we also get him showing he's... really not as expert as he plays himself. Which sure, the Professor has studied for years, but still-- there's a kind of logic that's just-- well, in the Quipu room and even before entering the ruins... He's just-- not studied enough, or observing enough. Not without blind spots.

BUT--

I also want to for a moment just take a moment to have an aside on this:

I also don't know if this is something that people would notice. But-- when it comes to this moment, Max turns the tables... really quickly. Which half of that is just Mummy being kind of naïve himself here in this moment, like-- of all the decisions... but the other half is SOMETHING clicked in Max's mind on this--

But mostly I want to focus on that expression. He's so damn smug-- like he's got a plan, smug and smooth, ready to try and steal the advantage... and I have... opinions on other nuances that might be hiding in that smile. But-- well, it's just not something that can easily be covered all in this--

BUT

It's these two SIDES. And his clear motivation, that actually makes Max a really, really strong and interesting villain to speculate and think about. ALSO-- On the topic of my prior rant...

Max DEFINITELY is the kind of person who probably-- had the movie not unfolded as it did, just be likely to think Mummy was just "another discovery" and tool to use to boost his own reputation.

But as we all know-- ultimately it all came back down on him and backfired.

Jack Rackham

Is honestly the most bland and kind of... confusing almost part of The Secret of King Midas. Like, I almost get him, but then compared to Max, there's just... Nothing to really work with in terms of fanfiction for missing scenes, alternative takes on the universe and story-- and even for his basic motivation it feels like something is... missing or unexplained. Not quite paid off properly.

But then, a lot of things in the sequel kind of pan out in a weird way that I have... much to grumble on.

"So cute, the power of Midas goes way beyond wealth my dear"

"Midas' power, is the power of the GODS! The power to Rule the World!"

Aaaand then this feels like it doesn't actually get a proper explanation or framing or anything to explain what that even MEANS. It's kind of nebulous to how things pan out and unfold. Also, just in general for movie 2, we didn't see enough of Rackham for him to make a proper impact or landing...

Like, for all the world aside the romance subplot, Rackham's presence in this movie is the MOST FORCED THING. He just feels... incomplete, or like something is missing. And then worse, obligatory. With next to no impact aside a few expressions that only lead to more internal confusion and screaming because WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?! What was meant to be going on here?

And that stupid, stupid line--

Makes me wonder if there was some other factor supposed to be at play with the collar. Since honestly-- Just the touch of gold doesn't really speak highly to "the power of the gods".

Rackham... in comparison to Max is just-- so empty.

And again...

The last thing that just drives my confusion(along with a conspiracy based on framing, set pieces and other things) is this expression, and specifically who it's aimed at.

Bonus Tiffany & The Archaeological Community

So...

Hot take but-- Movie 2's villain should have been Tiff. Well, halfway anyway... And I have... already mostly ranted on the topic-- But not really enough to truly kind of get over my TRUE frustration. Which has now combined into how nebulous and almost... overloaded movie 2 feels the more I rewatch the rest of it.

BUT LIKE--

If there is one rule that we see time and time again when discoveries are made that challenge things. THEY ARE NOT ACCEPTED. People just like to think, to believe that we know the most about the past already. That there's a strict timeline to everything that happened. And if mythology and stories come into it-- Just for crying out loud--

The issue persists.

People denying anything that challenges the view already established. Up to and including the mishandling of archaeological digs and finds. Destruction of artefacts and we all know that the ones who get the brunt of it are the younger folks, those who're out of the "default" and well... ladies.

Which yeah-- not really surprising because sexism still stands and rings strong... but here...

DESPITE THE PAPYRUS BEING FOUND-- We didn't actually get to see the end result of that... And how it was taken beyond a giant presentation. There would have been authenticators-- people going over every INCH of that thing and then more-- so, so many people who would STILL call it fake.

Since we all know! Magic isn't real, myths didn't happen. So this must be some exaggerated story as well right?

WHICH ALSO-- Arguably this whole angle, the potential of the plot being just-- Driven by this-- It's more in line with the motives that are set up for Tiffany. The BIGGEST DISCOVERY in recent history. And also again, I can talk about some incomplete arcs, because this actually gives EVERYONE that little bit more room to breath.

Also serves as a bit more of a move on from movie 1 for Tadeo, first his hero(Max), wasn't all he appeared, and now-- the villain is okay, not exactly defined so much, more abstract in the community decrying the evidence. Denying-- Quite likely mishandling the papyrus since it can't really be what it claims.

Actually make the papyrus relevant, along with Sara's journal of notes on the project for more than one scene... and POSSIBLY EXPLAIN THAT LINE FROM RACKHAM.

Power of the Gods... and the mystery of Sara's kind of echo/response line to it.

“There are too many signs that the power of Midas shouldn’t be trifled with, I’m just saying that maybe the collar shouldn’t see the daylight”

We could have even still had that climax, just with some alterations, and let Tiffany come full circle in the theming. Set up and payoff, with even the legend being mirrored. But anyway... yeah.

Just in general, the villains most effective here are the ones who give us more than just that surface level empty sense. That have presence that's felt and echoes throughout the whole MOVIE and story. Which is definitely Muntz and Max, without them something is fundamentally lost.

Meanwhile Rackham is there, but he feels obligatory, without a proper explanation and if you removed him--

Tiffany could have become a mirror to Muntz in a similar way to Max-- BUT also much closer. She's set up PERFECTLY for it as well. Her adoration and eagerness, that bright hope yet. And it would be so easy to still have the main beats be the same-- Without much of an issue of the plot push either.

Rackham's sense of presence in the movie is so... dismal anyway--

And as for that climax. Well, you have to prove every aspect right?

BUT then it wouldn't make sense for Tadeo to make any kind of sacrifice there. To come full circle, it would need to be Tiffany. And the collar ACTUALLY could be sacrificed like in the legend and Tad first assumed.

[monigheandonn1743]

The Diary

Sorry, I had intended this to be an update of Ceart, but I left the house today without my notebook with information I needed for the next chapter.

So I figured something was better than nothing, and wrote this instead 😘

Chapter 7

Jesus Christ what the hell am I doing?

He dropped the pen onto the bed and brought his shaking hands up to rub at his face. It had been almost an hour since the diary had reappeared, but he was still in shock. In the blink of an eye his whole life had changed. Everything he’d ever believed had suddenly been shot to shit and he was struggling to come to terms with it.

He’d read, and reread her words over and over again trying to let it sink in. They were real: she was real. But the truth was so fantastical that he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The evidence was right there in front of him, but he didn’t know how to rationalise something like this.

How could he?

How could anyone?

Accepting something so extraordinary required a massive shift in his psyche, and it left him feeling like the world had just been ripped out from under his feet. He’d lived his whole life in black or white. Things were either possible or impossible, right or wrong, acceptable or unacceptable. There was no middle ground, he didn’t have the time or the patience to flounder in the grey areas.

But that was exactly where he found himself now.

Two of the greatest minds to have ever lived had believed that this very thing could happen. That an occurring event, or in this case an object, could be witnessed by different people at different times. But those events were meant to take place somewhere out in deep space, not in the middle of the Scottish fucking highlands.

Yet it was happening. Here, now…or then…almost three hundred years in the past.

Or both.

Shit.

It was a complete mind fuck.

He’d been on auto pilot when he’d rushed down to his car for a pen, and set himself up on the bed to write back to her. But as he sat, trying to decide what to say, his mind was suddenly flooded with what if’s and maybe’s. Even if he did just simply accept that he was witness to some divine event, or groundbreaking scientific discovery. If he wrote back, and she read his response, his actions could have untold consequences.

One wrong word from him, and like the preverbal flutter of a butterflies wings, the whole world could change. If she was his ancestor he could say something that could alter his whole life, or end it completely, as though he’d never even existed. Or he could be responsible for world war three, or some other catalytic event that destroyed humanity.

But on the other hand, maybe the world exists the way it does because he was supposed to reply and if he didn’t, the world could end tomorrow.

Shit. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.

Reply or don’t reply?

If he replied, he’d have to really accept that she was a living, breathing woman. He couldn’t go in half arsed, constantly doubting her existence. It would be cruel to her, and he would eventually end up driving himself crazy.

But if he didn’t reply, then he needed to destroy the diary and never think of her again.

His stomach knotted at the though and he knew he had his answer. He had to respond, for himself and for her.

At this point he knew next to nothing about her, but what he did know was that, despite her obvious strength, she was also extremely fragile. She was living in poverty, close to starvation, and hiding from a man that had caused her harm.

She’d claimed to be unafraid of him, and if he hadn’t read the rest of her diary, he would have believed her. But he’d seen the false bravado in her last entry, and he knew that she was scared.

Christ, so was he.

But at least he had some idea of what was happening. She didn’t have a clue, and he had no idea how to explain it to her.

He hadn’t considered it before, but for a woman in the eighteenth century, she was surprisingly well educated. That she could read and write at all indicated that she must have been from an affluent family. But at least she stood a greater chance of understanding.

With a sigh, he reached for his pen again and brought the diary up to rest on his bent knees.

17th June

Firstly, allow me to apologise for defacing your diary with my untidy scrawl. Writing in somebody else’s diary isn’t something I’d normally do, but as it’s the only means I have to respond to your questions, I didn’t have much choice.

Actually, perhaps the first thing I should have apologised for, is reading your diary in the first place. It was wrong, but I hope that with time you’ll come to understand why I did it.

You ask me who am I, and where I am. Both are relatively easy questions to answer. But, without a doubt, they will only lead to more questions.

Questions that demand an open mind and a complete absence from reality.

My name is James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser, and I’m currently sat in the rear west bedroom, on the first floor of Lallybroch House.

Your bedroom.

My bedroom: for now at least.

You were right in your assumption that I’m not a ghost, in fact I’m very much alive, in my time at least. In yours I haven’t even been born, and I won’t be for another 235 years.

I have absolutely no idea how this is even possible. It shouldn’t be, and I’ll admit that after I saw you disappear from the garden, I questioned my sanity.

The last Laird, Robert Fraser, died three years ago and the estate was left to me. I’ve lived in Edinburgh most of my life, and until his lawyer contacted me two years ago, I had no idea that Lallybroch even existed. Work commitments kept me away until yesterday, and it was shortly after I arrived that I found your diary.

I was replacing the old mattress when it fell to the floor, and as the house had been empty for so long, it’s newness surprised me. That was the reason I opened it. I wanted to know who had been living in the house.

But I read it because you fascinated me.

It seems, that for whatever reason, the diary exists in both times simultaneously. The only time it seems to disappear from here, is when you’re writing in it. Twice now, it’s vanished completely, and the last time I actually saw it disappear from the windowsill, and reappear an hour later on the bedside table.

I’m not sure if it’s the same for you, but I imagine it is.

So, to answer your remaining questions.

No, Claire, I have no agenda. I’m not here to hurt or scare you. Jonathan hasn’t sent me, and I want nothing from you. But by my own admission, I am apparently a voyeur to your life.

I have no wish to invade your privacy, as I said, it was wrong of me to do so in the first place. So if you place it beneath your mattress, I promise that I will never look again. But if you do wish to respond, leave it on the windowsill in the evening, and I’ll be happy to read what you have to say.

I’ll leave by saying, that unfortunately you’ll find no satisfaction here in saying I told you so.

Your life is anything but dull.

I only wish there was something I could do to help you.

He read over his words twice, trying to imagine what her reaction would be, and failing miserably. With perfect recall, he could see her beautiful face, staring up at him in shock. He could see the fear and surprise in her dark eyes, and the slight parting to her full, rosy lips. But people of the eighteenth century were more open to the unexplainable. Especially in Scotland, where tales of water horses, fairy hills and witchcraft would still be running rampant.

She might just accept it easier than he had, or she could run for the fucking hills. But either way, he wouldn’t find out unless he put the diary down.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the book, and wrapped the leather laces securely around the cover, before leaning over and placing it carefully on the bedside table. It vanished almost instantly, as though, like him, she’d been sat waiting for it to reappear. His lips twitched, but the realisation that he might never see it again, kept a full smile from materialising.

There was so much more he wanted to say, hundreds of question he wanted to ask, and a thousand things he wished he could do to aid her. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. He had more money than he could spend in five life times. Easy access to medicine, food, and protection should he ever need it.

Yet there she was, with absolutely nothing. They were foraging for food in the wild, just to keep from starving to death. Children were sick and dying due to malnourishment. And at any moment, her husband, a man she had described as sick and twisted, could find her and cause her serious harm.

Yeah, he felt completely fucking helpless.

His head fell back against the bed and he closed his eyes. There had to be something he could do. Maybe he could send the things she’d need through the diary? If he could get hold of some old coins, he could enclose them in the pages.

Surely that would work?

Even if she didn’t want him to read it again, he could still slip them inside without breaking his promise. A promise that would be next to impossible to keep.

He didn’t really know anything about old coinage, so he dug his phone out of his pocket, and pulled up google. While he went through one website after another, checking the currency, converting it to modern values, and searching auction houses, his eyes constantly drifted to the bedside table.

The diary hadn’t turned back up, and although he was tempted to check under the mattress, he didn’t. It had only been half an hour, but he could already feel the disappointment creeping in and he wasn’t quite ready to deal with her rejection.

It was ridiculous, he didn’t really form emotional connections to anyone. His parents had all but destroyed that part of him as a child. But there was just something about her that had drawn him in. Even when he thought he was going crazy, he still hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.

Maybe it was their unique situation, or maybe the fact that he’d seen into her private mind, or even a classic case of white knight syndrome. He wasn’t usually drawn to damsels in distress. He was more likely to have a fling with a professional, self assured woman. They were less needy and complicated, and like him, tended to have less time and inclination for a long term relationship.

But he was safe from that with Claire. Not only did she live almost three hundred years in the past, but she wasn’t a classic damsel. She needed help, desperately, but she was a fighter. He had a feeling that, if her husband did find her, she’d go down throwing punches.

And she could be his fucking grandmother.

It took him awhile to find what he was looking for. It seems that guinea’s from the first half of the eighteenth century were pretty rare…or he was shit at searching. But for just under seven grand, he found and purchased six.

One, five guinea coin, one, two guinea coin, and four, one guinea coins.

Apparently that was just over eleven pounds, the equivalent of one thousand three hundred pounds in today’s money. It wasn’t a massive amount, but until he knew whether it would work or not, it would be enough to put food on the table.

If there was any available to buy.

“Fucking hell!”

He slammed his head against the wood behind him, and scrubbed at his face. They were completely fucking isolated at Lallybroch, and every family in the highlands was suffering the same fate. There was no food to be had, so having money wouldn’t help.

It would most likely just get them in trouble with the scavenging redcoats.

Why the hell haven’t they left for the colonies already?

She’d mentioned that William had asked his cousin for passage in the spring. But that was months ago, why the hell were they still there? If it was because of lack of funds, he’d supply them with all they would need to make a new life in America.

If he could send them.

He rolled his head, and opened his eyes to look at the table, but it still wasn’t there. Sighing, he pushed to his feet, and quickly pulled his t-shirt up over his head. He was exhausted, and the lads would be back at seven in the morning.

After placing his t-shirt over the back of the chair, he kicked off his shoes, and unfastened his jeans. He was just about to push them down, when movement by the window caught his eye. His head span so fast, that pain shot down his neck and shoulder, and he grabbed at it as he stared at the place he’d swear to God he’d just seen her.

“Claire?” He called stupidly as his eyes darted from one end of the empty room to the other. There was no sign of her, but he’d definitely seen her, he knew he had. She’d been stood by the window, in a plain white nightdress, with her long wavy hair falling down her back.

With his heart lodged in his throat, he slowly walked toward the window, and with a huffed laugh and a shake of his head, he picked up the diary.

Believe me when I say, Mr Fraser, a disappearing diary is not the most astonishing thing I have ever witnessed. So if you wish to shock me, you must expand your imagination beyond your birth in the year of our lord 1982.

It did not escape my notice that you conveniently omitted the current year from your entry, so I am left to ponder when it is that you live, and of course, your age. I know you are not an old man, for I have seen you with my own two eyes, but it was hard to discern your precise age from such a distance.

From that one glimpse, I would presume that you are younger than William, who is now one and thirty. Your untidy scrawl notwithstanding, you write relatively well, but your use of contractions suggest a certain laziness that could be attributed to youth.

But what man below the age of eighteen would site work commitments as an excuse for neglecting his inheritance?

So, I would estimate that you now reside somewhere between the year 2000 and 2012. Am I close, Mr Fraser?

I will admit that pondering a time so far in the distance, does boggle my mind. What is it like? Has the world changed much? I would assume that as a man that can read and write, you must have had a tutor at some point. Did you study history with him? Do you know how things are for me?

I will also say that it offers me great comfort to know that Lallybroch is still standing, and still owned by the Fraser’s. William is working tirelessly to sow the lands, but if the harvest is as abysmal as it was last year, I was afraid that we would not survive here.

But enough of the doom and gloom.

You know a lot of my secrets, James Fraser, I think it only fair that you tell me yours.

If a time traveling diary is not enough to shock you, I honestly dread to think what it is that you’ve seen.

Because it shocked the shi heck out of me.

But having said that, people are more sceptical of the unknown in 2018. They look to science for an explanation, and myths and legends are nothing more than stories told to children. So perhaps it’s modern advancement that would shock you, rather than a divine intervention.

You mentioned that William was arranging for you to sail to the colonies. I’d like to know why you haven’t gone. Yes, the voyage would be dangerous, but you’d be safe there, away from your husband, and well fed.

Speaking of the voyage, you may be interested to know, that if I left Lallybroch now, I could travel to Glasgow, and from there to America (the colonies) in less than twelve hours.

I’ll let you ponder the possibility of that one.

The world has changed a great deal, and I will try to explain one of our advancements with each entry. I’ll start with cars as we are on the subject of travel.

A car is a metal carriage, run on its own power, without the need of horses. (Horses are really only ridden for pleasure now). They can travel at high speeds over long distances, which is why it only took me four hours to get to Lallybroch from Edinburgh.

Does that count as one of my secrets?

No?

I do have many, Miss Beauchamp, I’m not a man to share my thoughts with others, and my feelings are hidden even from myself. But you’re right, fairs fair, and I can pair one in with your reference to Lallybroch.

I’m an architect and I’ve devoted my life to designing, building, and renovating properties. I also own a lot of land in Scotland and northern England, and spend what free time I have working to restore the highland culture. But both jobs can be stressful, and I’ve nearly worked myself to death.

I was mist sick as a child, and unbeknown to anyone, the sickness left my heart vulnerable, and the stress has made it worse. Three weeks ago, I suffered a heart attack, (apoplexy I think you call it) and landed myself in the hospital. I will admit to no-one but you, a veritable stranger, that it terrified me. To actually feel my heart stop beating, was the single most horrifying experience of my life.

And like you, I’ve had a few.

It made me extremely aware of my own mortality, and I still feel the cold fingers of death gripping me.

It was that which brought me to Lallybroch.

I needed to escape from my life, and this was the perfect place. The old laird had let the house fall in to disrepair. So I came here to begin the renovations. As it turns out, my employees won’t let me complete the work alone, and I now have a team of fifteen working with me. We dismantled the ground floor today, and will start on this floor tomorrow.

That’s why I requested that you leave your diary on the windowsill. There will be no furniture in here after tomorrow. So if you place it on the bedside table, or under your mattress, I won’t be able to find it.

But enough about me. With your initial reprimand, you haven’t written about your day, and as your official voyeur, I would like to know what you have been doing.

If you have suffered a heart seizure, and miraculously survived, should you not be confined to your bed? Continuing to work will surely only exasperate the problem. It seems to me as though it is a good thing that you have help, although I do not think you should be working at all.

Consider that a new reprimand.

To answer your question with regards to our passage to the colonies. You will know, of course, voyeur that you are, that we lost young Rabbie in March. Mary is still understandable devastated, as are we all, and as yet, she is unable to bring herself to leave her son behind. William has attempted to make her see reason, but she refuses to go, and he will not travel without her.

Maybe if the journey was as little as twelve hours, he might have had more luck. How is that possible? Not by car surely, for if it takes four hours to get to Edinburgh, it would take much more than twelve to travel across the ocean.

And I have yet to see a carriage that can sail.

I will admit, you have shocked and stumped me, Mr Fraser.

I too have felt the icy fingers of death, and I feel them closer still each time that Jonathan returns to the area. I do not know why he suspects that I am here, I have no previous ties to Lallybroch, I was just fortunate enough to find shelter with the family.

But I know that he knows, and I fear for William as much as I do myself. He has a short temper, and Janet informed me that he was very close to being carted off to Fort William at their last encounter. The English are extremely hostile toward the Scots, and a redcoat needs no excuse to run a highlander through.

Jonathan needs less than most.

But you ask about my day. Janet, Mary and I have been about the most ladylike task of dying wool. We chose red today, and for the life of me, I can not get the stain, or the scent of urine, out of my hands.

I look as though I have slaughtered a pig.

But such is the work of a woman.

I am sorry to hear that Lallybroch has fallen into such a state of disrepair, that it now requires dismantling, and I can only hope that you do not mean the whole house itself. But I can not regret it, for without its mismanagement, you may never have come.

And for that I would be very sorry indeed.

Which is strange, is it not?

I should be terrified, and suspicious of your claims of being from 2018. Yet no fear or distrust resides within me. I do not know you at all, and you know me only a little more. Yet, since the moment I saw you standing in my window, I have been drawn to you in a way that I cannot explain. I have read your words but twice, but I feel as though I have known you forever.

And I cannot remove you from my thoughts.

Why is that do you think?

I should not feel as comfortable as I do, being so forward and sharing my secrets with an unknown man. Just as I should be mortified at asking for yours, but I do not.

It is just the opposite in fact.

I long to know everything about you, and for you to know all of me. But with so much to say, and so few pages left to write on, I fear we will run out of time before I am ready to say goodbye.

There is always a way.

He scribbled the last on the corner of an envelope, ripped it off and placed it within the pages of the diary. Then he stepped back and waited. But she had either given up for the night, or something had gone wrong.

As the diary didn’t vanish. It stayed exactly where he had placed it on the windowsill.

[rousingloki]

The Flame in the Flood-Muddy Waters

Another Survival game with Hunger, Thirst, Tiredness, Stamina, and Crafting. Truly a memorable and unique experience.

The prospect of a survival game is endearing. I thoroughly enjoy the idea of having to maintain human needs while attempting to accomplish an over arching goal. Unfortunately, most of these games have either been done to death, or they don’t change up the formula whatsoever to keep the idea fresh, or just stick to such a rigorously established formula that even if you haven’t played the game, you’ve already played it. This game follows all of these problems, and then some.

The most interesting thing this game has going for it, is the premise. The world, through unexplained means, has plunged into an indefinite flood, destroying entire cities, drowning counties, and leaving only elevated bits of land as islands. The player Scout’s end goal is to discover the radio source a dog (Aesop or Daisy, depending on your choice) has brought to you via a backpack. That’s about it in terms of story.

There really isn’t room to grow on the story, because the game spends its entire time pestering you with constantly draining meters. The gameplay consists of moving between islands gathering resources to keep your hunger, thirst, temperature and tiredness in check... and it’s one of the worst things about this game.

This game basically makes you into a “Meter Maid” constantly annoying you how your player is hungry, so you eat, and now you need to drink water, but now that you’re full and quenched, you need to sleep. Now that you’ve slept, you’re parched and hungry once more. It’s a vicious and annoying cycle that NEVER STOPS. From the beginning of the game to the end, it’s nothing but making sure you have all those meters up, and only that.

You also have a temperature gauge that, if too low, can make you sick if you catch a cold, which could lead to pneumonia and eventual death if you don’t have adequate enough clothing. The only other way to stave this off is to get by a fire, or find a cabin to sleep in for the night, but that’s only a temporary solution to a problem that isn’t as annoying as the others, as you’re able to insulate your clothing and stave off the problem entirely, but it’s a rather difficult feat to pull off.

Other issues included is disease. Like said before, you can get a cold which could lead to pneumonia and eventual death. Other issues include things like “scoots,” or poison ivy, to parasitic infections and snake bites. These do nothing more than make sure you have to use up more inventory holding healing items, and another thing to make your meters go down faster, which too leads to death.

That’s another issue with this game: Inventory. You have extremely limited inventory, and when I say extreme, I mean extreme. You only have so much room to hold food, water, traps, weapons, medicine, parts, etc. The dog can hold a sparse amount of items, and you can also store items in your raft. But I swear no matter how hard I try, inventory management is always terrible. It doesn’t help that menu navigation is annoying, but it’s just the constant amount of things you NEED that will take up your space in no time. Stacks can’t be built very high, and some items, like jars and water, don’t stack at all. So storing anything long term is a very unrewarding feeling.

Let’s talk about the raft for a little bit. The raft is your mode of transportation in this game. Since the flood has taken away roads, or really any way for an automobile to get around, the only way around is by boat. Scout must use this raft to get between islands, keeping it maintained, and even upgrading it as she travels along the river. These upgrades are one of the better parts of the game. They’re honestly one of the better driving forces, as they really do help in the long run. Things like durability, control, inventory slots, they’re all very useful. 

Unfortunately, the actual steering and moving of the raft is not fun.

It’s an absolute dump truck to control. when on the current, moving left or right feels extremely unresponsive, and hitting anything feels extremely aggravating, especially when it feels like control was wrestled from you, instead of being an honest mistake. Shockingly, control is better when you’re on rapids, and you only have to worry about moving left or right, as slowing down or quick moving is out of the question. There is a “dodge” mechanic but it’s got several problems as well. First, it drains an abysmal stamina meter. One that’s got about 3 uses before needing refilling, and most of the time the effect is so negligible, that it hardly ever feels worth it. Even with the rudder upgrade, I still felt like I had just as much control without it. Simply put, the raft sucks.

Being in the water means you have to think about what type of island you’re going to land at. There are several different islands, all with different resources, with advantages and disadvantages. The camping islands always have fire, and copious amounts of flint. Liquor stores have alcohol, and clinics have medicine. There are plenty more, and once you’ve played through you’ll definitely learn which islands have which, and which ones might have resources that you’re hemorrhaging for.

Then there are the enemies. While there isn’t a huge variety of enemies, all of them are brazen idiots. The most threatening off the bat are wolves and bears. Bears are monstrous enemies that require far too much effort to kill, with the only reasons to kill being their hides used to insulate your mittens. Wolves aren’t as threatening, as even in packs you can just wave your staff and keep them away long enough to get away. Then there are the boars. Boars are shockingly the most annoying, and brutal enemy in this game. They charge at high speeds, cause a staggering amount of damage, and never leave you alone. There’s also snakes but you can just walk around those. They are difficult to see, but they don’t pester you like the other enemies.

The only point in killing enemies is for their hides. Because temperature needs to be kept in check, you have to keep upgrading your clothes as you move down the river. You can start with things like rabbit hide and cat-tails, but soon you need to get warmer clothes or else you die. This is quite literally the only reason you NEED to face these enemies. If not for that, it’s rather easy to get around them as you could theoretically just leave the island and move on to the next one, unless you’re in absolute desperate need of resources. 

Rabbits are honestly the only thing worth killing, as they’re stupid, will walk into a snare trap with no bait, and supply a copious amount of food that is easily turned into jerky. They’re also on a huge amount of islands so you never really need to worry about getting huge amounts of it.

I’ve talked about this game very negatively so far, because I do want to address what is bad, but to be completely honest, none of it is inherently bad. Everything from survival, crafting, and exploration are all done rather competently. My only complaint to add to that would be the lack of a rotating camera. Everything The Flame in the Flood does is done decent enough to function, but that’s about it. But it does have its moments.

The biggest moment for me was easily the music. About half-way through the game, I was wandering around a town like island, no threats, just lots of cars and buildings for me to loot. Out of nowhere the music that had been playing as only an instrumental a few regions back, added lyrics. This moment may have been small, but it was a very cathartic one. With no enemies to bother me, and all the gasoline and salt I could carry, I felt extremely optimistic and confident. It was as if I knew I was gonna be OK, and that everything was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out.

Then I left and that feeling immediately sunk to the bottom of the river I was traveling on.

The Music and Art style are both wonderful to say the least though. The Picasso style art is captivating, and the music is an interesting blend of grass roots, folk, and country. While the art is a bit more distressing to look at, the music is uplifting and upbeat. It blends two very different elements to create something more distinct, and in a way beautiful. It’s a shame I’ll have forgotten all about it in a week or so.

That’s where this game’s true fatal flaw is: It’s boring. This game is aggressively boring. While it doesn’t do anything truly bad, it doesn’t do anything truly new. There are so many of these video games that I’ve lost track. It’s so generic that it couldn’t even be a full release, it had to go through steam’s early access. Just like every other survival game released.

It’s so boring I started scrolling back and forth on the menu screen of my Switch when I took it out in public.

I have no problem with monotony in a video game. Games like Stardew Valley or Space Engineers are a couple of the many monotonous games I’ve played, but this game takes it to the extreme. From the beginning of the game to the very end, you are doing the EXACT same thing. Making sure you’re fed, quenched, warm, rested, and disease free. From beginning to end it’s nothing but being a meter watcher until you reach an end that does not feel rewarding for the time spent getting there.

In what seemed like a desperate bid to be completely different, this game ended up being just like every other survival game on the market. I would say that there was a flame in this flood, but someone didn’t even bother to light the fire in the first place

5/10 Mediocre

[amplesalty]

Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan (1989)

If I can make it there, I’ll make it anyhwere...

We’ve just had another Friday the 13th so it’s time to dust off the old slasher franchise for my ongoing attempts to make it all the way through the series. Let’s see where we left off last time, 6? Well, that’s not strictly true. I did watch 7 last November but never bothered posting about it. Which, I probably should have done because for once it actually bucked the trend with these movies and I actually kinda liked it? Just try to imagine ‘Jason vs Carrie’ and that’s basically it. Kinda takes the whole thing in a slightly different direction which is a welcome change after so many chapters of ‘Jason stabs camp councilors...again’. Maybe I’ll revisit it in more detail some time.

This movie isn’t quite that far out with it’s gimmickry there’s definitely an element of that with swapping the shoes of Crystal Lake for the neon lights of Manhattan. At least, that’s what the title of the movie would have you believe.  It doesn’t exactly play out that way though.

The opening of the movie seems to be going that way as it takes you on a guided tour around the dark city streets, with steaming sewer vents, shady alleyways complete with muggings, subway rides, diner coffee orders and a shot of Times Square.  It’s all set to the stylings of Metropolis and ‘The Darkest Side of the Night’. I dig the song, has a very 80’s rock vibe to it, like something by Survivor that you’d get in a Rocky movie but it just seems a little out of place here.

Wait a minute, is that the Batman symbol?! Forget Jason vs Carrie, give us Jason vs Batman. Don’t tell me DC wouldn’t go for that, they seem more than happy to license out the Caped Crusader. I mean, we did just have crossover movies with Scooby Doo and the Ninja Turtles in recent years.

The requisite awakening of Jason takes place, this time jolted into life by the 1.2 gigawatts of electricity running through an underwater cable next to his watery grave. From there, we bumps off a couple of kids making whoopee in a house boat before stowing away on board as the boat slowly drifts into port where a high school pleasure cruise is about to set sail.

And it’s here that the bulk of the movie takes place which...isn’t the worst idea in the world? Would have that same sort of idea behind Alien where you’re trapped on board with this killer, not quite as extreme since there are some ways off a ship if need be. The movie touches on it to a degree, there’s a sense of paranoia and claustrophobia that develops but it doesn’t feel fleshed out.

You could throw in a sort of moral element to it, like the characters coming to terms with there being no escape and no way to eliminate Jason so they ponder whether to destroy the ship and sacrifice themselves so Jason doesn’t make it to land. Then you have the obvious sequel bait of him actually surviving and finding himself a whole host of new victims.

It just feels like a bait and switch. Just look at the poster, how awesome is that? You’ve got one of the most iconic skylines in the world and home to some of the tallest and most famous buildings but yet Jason looms over each and every one of them. And the subtitle ‘Jason Takes Manhattan’ conjures up all these images in your head of Jason rampaging through the streets like when the T-Rex gets loose in San Diego in The Lost World. I guess ‘Jason Goes Boating’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. Jason being in the big city is a novel concept which hasn’t really been explored in the series up to now. Sure it starts to move away from just being confined to the camp grounds but it’s still a pretty rural area so to go to this level of widespread panic would be interesting.

At first I thought the movie might be trying to be a ‘best of both’ worlds and the ship section was just to explain how he gets to the big city. It kinda gives that impression the way it starts rattling off all the people on board and starts killing them off quicker than it can introduce them. This one rock chick is in all of two scenes and the second one is her death. They’re characters done with very broad strokes so it feels they’re doing the bare minimum to give you some context before Jason kills them off, just to keep the pace up before we get to the real meat and potatoes of the action in the big city. It’s almost like The Breakfast Club with all the stereotypes we have on show; the jock, the nerd, the beauty queen...

We even get elements of the controlling father of EMILIOOOOOO’s character with young Sean Robertson who’s own father is the ships captain and seems quite keen on Sean taking up the family business. Are you not taking things a little too seriously to be in full naval uniform and ribbons for the sake of some exaggerated high school graduation party?

And don’t forget basket case Rennie who has visions of a young Jason drowning. Except, her dog spends this scene looking at the port hole in a very worried manner as well before getting freaked out and running away so apparently he has these visions too?!

Rennie clearly isn’t too popular amongst her peers as the bitchy, popular girl promptly hip checks her off the deck, sending her flying through the air and into the icy waters below. Have the people who made this ship not heard of a guard rail?

I’m not sure what the deal is with Rennie and all these weird visions she has, like blood coming out of a tap or young Jason bursting through the mirror and gooziling her. The movie never really explains what the link is between the two of them, at most it seems to be this mutated childhood trauma where she nearly drowned, mixed with warnings she had back then that she needed to learn to swim lest she end up drowning like that Jason Vorhees boy. It’s just like the puritan origins of those urban legends, clearly all along Jason Vorhees was just a means of scaring kids into taking water safety seriously.

Still, as unexplained as it is, it still adds some enjoyable moments to the movie and I’ll gladly take the writers throwing a bunch of weird shit at the wall to see what sticks over some of the earlier movies.

I love the moment when the core group of survivors eventually make it off the ship, taking refuge in the life boat, rowing day and night to try and find some sort of sanctuary before eventually seeing a torch on the horizon; that of Lady Liberty. One of the most iconic images in human history, a great symbol of hope to the tired, poor and huddled masses yearning to breathe free that made their way to her shores. Like those that came before them across the seas, finally their nightmare is over.

Or, at least it is for all of about five minutes before they get promptly mugged by two street urchins.  Not just muggers mind you, given that they usher Rennie away with disturbing plans in mind for her.

Which, say what you will about Jason, he does stop an attempted rape in this movie. Probably not going to tip the karmic scales in his favour after the hundreds of grizzly murders at his hands over the years but still, it’s a start. Plus, this is doubly puritan as this guy injected Rennie with heroin or something so Jason is taking a stand against drugs as well.

We also get one of the characters standing up to Jason on a rooftop and trying to use his boxing skills to good use by giving him a series of right hooks and body blows. Only, Jason has been following the Homer Simpson school of boxing as he just stands there and takes it before the other guy gets too fatigued to carry on. At which point Jason literally knocks his block off like a Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em robot and the guys head rolls away into a nearby dumpster which then slams shut in a very satisfying manner.

Rennie and Sean end up in the sewers but need to get out again as the sewer system is about to flood with toxic waste. Lucky that they just have buckets of that lying around that Rennie can just throw in Jason’s face. He then removes his mask in what I can only assume is a loving tribute to The Phantom of the Opera to reveal the mutated freak beneath. Maybe this is another Toxic Avenger origin movie?

Then lightning strikes The Statue of Liberty because...symbolism, I guess?

And Jason succumbs to his one weakness; drowning. Only this time in the aforementioned toxic waste so it’s nice to have a bit of variety. At which point he turns back into child Jason because...I have no idea. Maybe it’s another one of their visions, or they’ve somehow exorcised the demons of zombie ghost Jason and now the spirit of child Jason can rest in peace?

You know what the most amazing thing about this movie is? Other than the fact that Rennie’s dog shows up again at the end because it seems to have the homing skills of one of those animals you read about in the papers who travel across country to their old house, these characters have been through the innards of a manky old ship, been lost at sea for however long, trudged through the shift encrusted sewers and tussled with a decaying monster and still manage to come out without a speck of dirt on them.

Maybe I’ve just been going into these last couple with super low expectations but I’m actually beginning to enjoy them now? Like I said before, I found the old ones really boring so changing up the formula is refreshing and they’re tickling my ‘so bad it’s good’ senses with all the weird shit going on.

Like, amongst all those images in my head of what a Jason in New York movie would be, funny wasn’t one of them but it just seems to really ramp up in this finale. You have individual moments like when a bunch of thugs are listening to music from their boombox which Jason storms past and punts in the air. They don’t too kindly to this, pulling out chains and switchblades to threaten him, to which he calmly lifts up his mask and causes them to flee with their tails between their legs.

But there’s also this broader idea which serves as this sort of amazing anti climax that having Jason turn up in New York is not the cataclysmic event you think it would be. It’s like no one outside of Crystal Lake has even heard of him so no one bats an eyelid when some 7ft behemoth goes by in the street or on the subway at 1am. I mean, who’s going to notice another freak around here? When Sean and Rennie storm into a diner looking for help, their cries of a maniac being on the loose and trying to kill them is met with a rather quizzical look by the waitress who simply replies ‘Welcome to New York...’.

Then Jason bursts through the wall like the Kool Aid man and the cook just shakes his head and walks out to confront him. He does it so nonchalantly as if he’s had to deal with his a hundred times already, like it happens so often that it’s lost all meaning. This whole movie has a pretty damning outlook on this city, maybe the true horror in our lives isn’t playing out on TV or on the big screens of our local cinemas. It’s a call to arms that the true horror is the violence and crime taking place on our city streets every day and the systemic issues going unchecked that give rise to it.

[thenerdyunhealthybrit]

Loneliness and Smoking: The Cost of desire to reconnect

Prompt: Met on the fire escape outside the apartment for smokes AU

A/N: Okay, quick little note, basically since last Summer I vowed to myself to get into FanFic writing. Little note, I did give it a go back in 2011 with Buffy/Angel and Charmed, but what happened was that I’d get hooked on a new show and lose motivation and the will to write more, this was on an old account which I’ve since forgotten the password and deleted the email account for it (But it’s DrBangelWho if anyone is curious about a 14 year old’s foray into FanFic). Anyway, I wrote a page of a FanFic I was writing when on holiday, but haven’t gotten back to it since on the holiday I got too busy (It was a Film Festival) and once again got distracted and Uni took over. So, this one is just for me to get into the swing of things. There is no planning, making it up on the spot and I took this prompt from the list of Prompts on the Klaroline FanFic directory. So wish me luck!

If you asked Caroline “where you’d see yourself in 10 years” when she was 15, she would have said “I would have graduated from Yale with a degree in journalism and anchoring the late-night news slot on CNN, gearing up for the prime-time slot when I’m thirty, and living with my future husband, Stefan”. Yeah, 15 year old Caroline was naïve, because here she is 25, single living in New York with Stefan, working as a hotel receptionist, her best friend and his latest “Epic Love” Ivy – Seriously he only met her two days ago and she’s already unofficially moved in. For all she knows, Ivy could be a psychopath ready to murder us in the night!

Currently, Caroline is stuck at the umpteenth weekly dinner, in attendance is her, Stefan who is fondling Ivy’s hands non-stop, Damon who is clearly trying to get off with Elena – Why Elena is married to him, Caroline doesn’t know and she does not understand why her friends and close to him, she tried to cut him out of her life but her friends just gain up on her – well, except Katherine, but she’s off endlessly travelling the globe. Bonnie use to but then Elena got to her, speaking of Bonnie she was here with my best friend from College and her boyfriend Enzo, but they had to leave because Bonnie’s daughter Emily was ill and their babysitter has school tomorrow. So basically Caroline is the third, well the fifth wheel in this disgusting orgy.

“I’m gonna barf” she muttered. She’s had enough, she needs a breather.

“I’m going to go out and grab some wine,” She told the group with a raised voice, they clearly didn’t notice, as Caroline opened the door “and drink it all myself.” She added, not bothering to be quiet about it. As she exited her apartment she shut the door and saw the fire escape and immediately climbed out the window and climbed up the top of the stairs near the roof.

“Hey,” Caroline said as she sat down.

“Sup” The sandy-haired man replied next to her. This has been happening for months, it started back in September when Caroline needed to escape from her mom visiting and Damon was doing his sleazy schmoozing with my mom and he was there, in her spot.

“Hey, move” Caroline snapped at him, she needed a cigarette and she needed one right now. He looked at me, smirk, chuckled and just sat there! “Buddy, listen I’m not in the mood, my mom is down in my flat, speaking to my roommate’s creep of a brother and asking me when I’m getting married and where my life is heading, so would you pretty pleased move your pretty ass elsewhere so I can have a cheeky little smoke before my mom tries to look for me.” She rambled.

He just sat there, Caroline could tell that he homed in on that “pretty ass” comment, she tried to not let her inner embarrassment show, he then stopped looking at me and started facing the skyline. “Asshole! Ugh!” Caroline muttered badly, and she walked out, she likes to smoke alone, that way she can hide the judgment and have alone time, she decided that she’d simply turn up later when he isn’t there.

This kept happening every other day, sometimes he would be there, other times she’d be there first, he refused to leave if Caroline was there first, and eventually, they developed a pattern. They’d just still by the fire escape at the top, and smoke, sometimes they shared if one of us ran out. No words were spoken, and they barely know anything about each other – Caroline only found out that he was British in December when they started communicating with one-worded syllables knowing nothing about each other.

“Give me that,” she said as she snatched the cigarette out of his hands. Okay, she’s in a very bad mood. She could tell that he was slightly annoyed by her tone, but Caroline tonight didn’t care. Her life is going nowhere, and she’s never felt so alone in her life.

“What has your boyfriend done this time?” He quipped to her, although there was an unexplained tone to it, something was up, she couldn’t tell what.

As Caroline breathed out the smoke, “What? Boyfriend?” This is new territory, where did this come from? What is he on about? “Stefan? Oh god no! I mean, when I met him at school, yeah I was attracted to him, but it literally died the next day when he started talking about his hero hair to me, I’ve learnt to never date a guy that would rather talk about his hair and other girls, than you.” She scoffed as she said it. “I mean, his hair isn’t even that great, you know?”

She could have sworn that she heard him say “Good”. “So, what has gotten yourself into a twist then?” He said hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” She had to ask confusingly, they don’t do this. They smoke in silence and go their own way. This is how she likes it, no one can judge her. “I’m not going to unload myself to some stranger- ”

“I’m not a stranger” he cut her off.

“Or some guy whose name I don’t know.” She sharply responded.

“Klaus” he answered, just as Caroline finished her sentence.

“Caroline” She countered. “I’m not going to tell you.” He continued looking at her, he even started to rest his elbows on his knees and hands under his chin. Arrogant ass. He looks at her knowingly.

“Fine!” she shouted at him. Klaus started to smirk. “Wipe that smirk off, you ass!” He didn’t, or he did but he didn’t stop smiling. Caroline took her time, how is she going to explain this. “I hate my life okay. All my friends are in long-term relationships, know what they are doing or are Stefan. And my life sucks about, I have a degree in Journalism, I thought I’d be working at a news station by now, my roommate is inconsiderate and selfish, he dates all these women, proclaim them as the love of his life, they move in, I have to clean up the mess, then they break up and it’s just rinse and repeat. Then I just had it up to here with his brother, he is not just an ass, he is a fucking dickhead, who had consistently done beyond shitty things and my friends know that he has done this and what he has done to m- but don’t care. Meanwhile, my mom is complaining about my job as a receptionist, wanting me to move home, asking if I found someone – man or women, she says I can’t be choosy anymore – and I’m just at breaking point, I’m wondering why am I here, because there is nothing for me in New York, I have a degree which is useless, a job I hate and I’m not even sure if I want a career in journalism anymore!” Caroline ranted and rambled, it started off quiet but as she vented, her confidence grew. As she finished, however, her confidence suddenly shrank and now she was embarrassed, he probably thinks that it was petty and a spoilt brat and now he’d never want her company again. “I’m sorry,” she said nervously as she changed her tune. “I’ve gotta go” she handed him the cigarette quickly and raced back down to her flat completely embarrassed.

“Caroline” she heard him say, but right now she didn’t care.

It’s been 5 days since that incident, and she hasn’t gone back up there since, opting to smoke on her way home from work instead. Stefan has broken up with Ivy, who did not take it well – there were slaps and tears. Caroline would have laughed if one of those slaps weren’t directed at her as she accused her of turning Stefan against her. He’s now moved onto Valerie, she’s saner but more standoffish, cold, unapproachable, Caroline honestly doesn’t care about Stefan’s “loves” anymore. “Hey, blondie!” Damon snarked – Elena and him have temporarily moved in while their flat is getting fixed after it got flooded.

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped. It was only her and Damon.

“Aww, come on, Carebear, don’t be like that I thought we were friends.” He teasingly answered.

“Are you kidding me, in what world would I seriously be friends with you after what you did.” She shot back. Is he for real? She is not in the mood today and he was just making her mad, madder than she’s been in a long time.

“Okay, we had some fun in high school. You regretted it afterwards, caused some usual drama, I’m over it” He light-heartedly answered, trying to go in for a hug. Something in Caroline switched.

“Are you fucking kidding me! We did not have some ‘fun’ as you eloquently put it. You know what I did and I weren’t lying when I told Elena 7 years ago.”

“Hang on, you said yes!” Damon cut in as he sobered up.

“No. I may have said yes at first, but then you started verbally assaulting me, telling me I was weak and pathetic. I don’t tend to want to sleep with guys that speak to me like crap. I withdrew my consent, I said no, you wouldn’t accept it, you wouldn’t let me go. You…you…” She couldn’t say the words, she never could she knew what he did, but she couldn’t say it to him, by saying it, she goes back to being that 18 year old girl. “…And afterwards, you continued to verbally abuse me, until you got with Elena and I don’t know how, but you got everyone to forgive you, to think it’s alright. 'Oh, Caroline just needs to move on. Caroline just needs to toughen up. Well, she was all over Damon, she got what she wanted’ and you know what I did toughen up, I tried to deal with it because I weirdly wanted my friends’ happiness above myself. I’m done. Fuck you, Damon.” She then stormed out of the apartment.

“Wait why did I storm out, it’s my apartment.” She muttered to herself outside the door, well she can’t go back in, kind of negates her power moment there. She snuck out the fire escape and saw that it was empty. Perfect. She sat in her usual spot, it was weird, she didn’t realise how empty she felt, sitting by herself, as she lit her cigarette and as she took a smoke, “I should really quit” she spoke to herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me” Caroline stopped smoking, she heard a voice above her, not just any voice, a particular cocky, annoying voice. With a god damn sexy – very sexy – British accent. She looked up.

“Hey, the roof is banned remember!?” She shouted, trying to avoid the subject. This was not the plan.

“I’ve been here every day you know. I wanted to check if you were alright, but you never came.” Klaus confronted her, Caroline could detect a bit of a sad tone in his voice, she immediately felt guilty, she tried to explain. “No, don’t talk, I want to show you something.” He added and he reached for her hand, to help her up on the roof. As she turned around, she saw the most beautiful thing ever. There were fairy lights hung up everywhere, a tartan blanket on the floor, accompanied by a picnic basket. She never thought that a roof in a cheap apartment building could look so stunning. “I…er…know that you feel that your life sucks, and you might be going through a bit of a crisis. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted you to feel better, even if it’s more a moment.” He explained nervously, Caroline found it weird as his arrogant demeanour was gone and was replaced by a nervous schoolboy as he looked down, scratching his neck.“

"Thanks.” Caroline answered. Touched. She proceeded to sit on the blanket. “Well, aren’t you going to pour me a drink?” she quipped at him. Caroline couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he shocked? A smile formed, and he proceeded to sit down.

They talked for hours, they lost track of time, there was a lot of laughter, Caroline has not had this much fun in years, she forgot everything that was going on in her life. She checked her phone and saw it was 10pm, “It’s 10. We should probably…” She gently said to him, after a period of blissful silence.

“Right.” He answered. He started to pack everything away, Caroline decided to help, after they were done, they headed down the fire escape back into the apartment building. They realised that they didn’t want to leave each other’s company and took the long route back down. They just walked in silence, having never felt this much calm in years. They reached Klaus’s apartment first. “So…” he said as he broke the silence.

“So…” she was starting to feel awkward. Nervous and awkward, why does this feel like a first date?

“As he put the key into his door, "Umm…I had a lot of fun, do you want to do this again? But like properly?” He was nervous again. Caroline found it cute, but strangely was missing the cocky Klaus she has known for months.

“I had fun to do, umm…yeah okay,” Caroline answered. Caroline knew that she was starting to blush, but right now she didn’t care.

“Ok, cool.” He answered with a slight smile. They were in silence once again. Do they hug? Kiss? Why are they suddenly acting like they have never dated people before?

“I’m going to let you go.” Caroline answered, partly to fill in the silence, but also to end it, if one of them didn’t stop, she didn’t know how long they’d be standing in the hallway in silence. Klaus turns the keys in the keyhole and opened the door. Caroline could see the old Klaus return, he had a sense of renewed confidence, with one foot in the door, he turned around and immediately kissed a surprised Caroline on the lips. It was gentle and very charged, they kept being pulled into this their own personal bubble, this kiss wasn’t about lust or sex. It was about the beginning of something. Something special. Something great. Klaus stopped the kiss but Caroline didn’t want to. She kept her eyes closed a little longer, she could feel his smirk burning through her closed eyes, so Caroline opened them.

“Bye” Klaus grinned, the asshole. He’s back to his normal self, which infuriated Caroline. Not because he was being an ass. It was because she was still attracted to him. Just as Klaus was about to close the door, she heard a second voice from inside the flat.

“Oh good, you finally asked her out. It only took you four months!” a feminine, also British voice shouted through the flat. Klaus went red, he was mortified, Caroline started to laugh. Oh, how the tables have turned.

She continued laughing, until she remembered what she heard, “Wait a sec, 4 months!”

A/N: Okay, that’s it, folks. I know that I left some open bits. Basically, I wanted to leave it open for a potential sequel but from Klaus’s POV, one which would address Damon more and give that a conclusion. I just had to include it based on what happened in TVD, I couldn’t ignore it when I mentioned Damon, but at the same time, I didn’t want the whole one-shot to be about that. As I said, I wanted to leave a lot open for a potential sequel. I know a lot isn’t resolved and it was done purposely because as I wrote it, I realised that I wanted to explore that period of adulthood, between when you leave College and went you really hit adulthood and you are kind of lost.

Review, like do it all. Constructive criticism is appreciated, I wrote this on the spot, to try and get through a little stumbling block so I can write more, I haven’t written in years. So reviews would be greatly appreciated.

[hopethruhorses]

Hopethruhorses

Equine Involvement Therapy

Horses are remarkable creatures they teach us, not only about ourselves as we are right now, but also how to access different, freer and more functioning aspects of ourselves.

For over ten years Hopethruhorses has seen a steady stream of people, the old and the young, come through our gates. People who feel lost and are searching for answers and those who are stuck, fearful and hopeless both emotionally and psychologically. Whether people are dealing with past trauma, depression, anxiety or any related disorder everyone has been warmly welcomed and given the treatment and support they’ve needed to help them find health and recovery. With the help of the Hopethruhorses’ herd of 18 horses and ponies Therapist Jo Corfield gives people the tools and incentive to experience their life and themselves in a very different way – in a way that helps them feel truly safe and unafraid in their own bodies. Sometimes for the first time in their lives.

Undercover of sometimes desperate and long term symptoms it’s all too easy to lose sight of who we are. ‘Self’ disappears under layers of pain and overwhelming emotions, diagnoses, labels and endless analyses of the life story that has led us to this point. We become identified and judged for our presenting symptoms if not by others, certainly by ourselves. When ‘Self’ is lost then accessing confidence and a strong connection with who you are becomes difficult or even impossible. Our herd lives out – they roam freely and naturally - they are given the freedom to become real horses without expectations, pressures or unnecessary human intervention - we allow them to be their ‘true selves’. Here with us, we give you the opportunity to do the same.

We love our work and the people who come to us. With a wealth of understanding, knowledge and experience behind us our aim has always been to move people forward to a happier and psychologically safer place. Most people long for inner peace and calm within the fearfulness and chaos. Anxiety, stress, depression and related psychological disorder brings with it a sense of deep unrest, which is why Equine Involvement Therapy can be the answer for so many of us. Horses are gentle, peace loving creatures - they have mastered the art of mindfulness and spend many hours of their day in deep reflection. They understand the absence of fear as thoroughly as they feel the intensity of its presence.

The power behind healing in the company of horses lies in the fact that horses live experientially, using the intelligence and authenticity of their bodies and their senses. Their world has meaning through feel, sight, sound and smell and their attention and focus is always on the present – the here and now. They have no need to dwell on the past as it holds little relevance to their survival. Like us, the impact of fear from past negative experiences is stored in both body and mind but when allowed return to freedom and their natural way of being, this is quite quickly released and re-balanced. This ability to heal and let go and focus on living in the moment are both key to the success of our equine therapy.

We can benefit from observing how horses instinctively manage stress - they know how to regulate and rebalance themselves and live perfectly in tune with their bodies. They know how to live harmoniously with other herd members and the environment – and as masters in their art make the most excellent teachers. Using natural skills to accurately read our fear levels, they take note of our dysregulation and activated flight responses and measure them against the other herd members and potential danger within their environment. After completing a scan they generally and very intelligently conclude, that from their perspective all appears to be perfectly safe. They see that our fear is our fear and contains no immediate threat to them but will proceed to show us how to deal with it as effectively as they do.

All animals need energetic, psychological and physical balance in order to survive. Holding on to stress serves no purpose, it erodes good health, causes physical and mental burn out and disrupts vital functioning. Horses and humans are no exception. The brains and bodies of horses respond to fear exactly the same as ours, we all have own fire alarm system and produce the same hormones in response to fear. When there’s a threat, we produce adrenaline which is released throughout the body sending signals to parts of the brain to pay attention and alert the body to escape or defend itself against the danger. This sets up a chain reaction resulting in the release of another hormone, cortisol, which floods the body with glucose further fuelling the bodies fight or flight instinct. We all need the hormones cortisol and adrenaline to help us survive but if the production of these hormones remains unchecked, which can happen after one or more traumatic events or long term stress, then that’s when we’re in trouble and need help. Whether we’re a horse or a human.

When left to behave as nature intended horses clear all trace of stress hormones from their system allowing them to return to a peaceful equilibrium. They are acutely aware of their bodies and with a series of body movements, breathing, stretching, and sometimes even shaking or shivering they naturally release residual fear, successfully re-regulating and re-balancing both mind and body. Watching and learning from these amazing animals has allowed us to understand we are equally capable of healing ourselves in a very similar way.

All the horses are truly remarkable, in their presence we can heal energetically and at a very deep level, this is often felt in the body at the time and realised later by positive and unexplained emotional and behaviour transformations. However, every horse is unique and responds differently to the company of humans - these responses are utilized and interpreted therapeutically to provide you with the knowledge and tools needed to take you closer to recovery. In human company some horses will voluntarily help re-regulate and re-balance by lowering and slowing down their own system to allow ours to follow suit. Others will work us a little harder, gently challenging and awakening previously unacknowledged strengths and resources - parts of us that have lain dormant and unseen. There are horses in the herd who evoke previously unexplored feelings, sensations and fears which with the therapist’s support and the safe environment can be brought safely to the surface, understood and released. Each horse works on creating perfect balance – two beings coming together in connection and communion as one. Energetically, physically, intellectually and emotionally.

With the Hopethruhorses’ unique and healing combination of naturally kept horses and the skills of our somatically experienced therapist, seemingly impossible fears, blocks and difficulties can be recognised, understood and overcome. The overwhelming emotional layers hiding ‘self’, can finally peel away, allowing your recovery to become a real possibility.

[floofsta-x]

Blood On My Hands (For You) [E]

genre;; dark / realistic fantasy, 1920s mob / mafia!AU, serial killer!AU 

pairing;; Mainly Chae Hyungwon x Lee Minhyuk [Hyunghyuk]. Also, Shin Hoseok x Son Hyunwoo [Showho] and some Lee Jooheon x Im Changkyun [Married!Jookyun].

plot ;;

After Minhyuk’s first mob kill, his initiation as you will, he discovers that he can see the grim reaper: Hyungwon, the one who brings finality to the souls of hell-bound dead. Once the initial encounter is past, Minhyuk can’t get him off his mind. Quickly, his desire grows to see, touch--and maybe kiss--the tall, handsome, dark-haired man. So, he turns to some very questionable methods.

Based on this Reddit prompt.

⚠️ warnings;; violence, blood/gore, criminal activity, murder….angst…um maybe a bit of fluff? Smut, smut to an end (unwillingly fucking a man to kill him)...Good God just….hold on

words;; 14,914 (15k)

author’s notes;; so this fic was written for the 2017 MX Halloween fic exchange on AO3! It was based off a prompt given to me by @dirtyretrowrites, and I had a really really fun time with it. I don’t get a chance to write anything quite this dark very often. That said, this fic you might notice is not as refined as my others. Welcome to Bry writes raw! I thought that by only doing minimal editing and not my usual, extreme regimen, I could capture a little more of the dark, gritty theme. Anyways! Enjoy!

am I so primal? am I so cruel? I'd do anything to be closer to you. is it so carnal? is it a sin? I'll go to hell for my hands on your skin. vicious contention, I drive myself mad, all for a lover that I'll never have. is it so wicked to want you this much? desperate and dangerous, just for your touch? I'll be a slave, I'll be a killer, do anything that I have to do. I'll be a saint, I'll be a sinner, I put this blood on my hands for you. ⟶ Blood on my Hands - HIDDN and LEVV.

Lee Minhyuk ran for his life. Adrenaline coursed through him, and all he could hear was the pounding of his feet and his heartbeat in his ears.

The night was warm and calm, a direct contrast to the feelings tearing apart the tall, platinum blond’s heart at that moment. He and his three buddies had only made it out of the alley, but already he was gasping for air. There, they stopped, giving Minhyuk a chance to run a hand through his hair and sink down against a brick wall. Somehow, his racing mind had three thoughts going simultaneously: fuckfuckfuck, what the hell just happened, and I didn’t sign up for this bullshit. His legs wanted to take him far, far away from anyplace, and yet he felt frozen to the spot. Paralyzed, even.

“Good work, men,” a low voice, familiar though now suddenly unrecognizable, cut through the air. “I had a feeling that the deal was dirty, so I’m glad we came prepared.” All eyes turned to the tall, slender young man in a pinstripe vest. “Minhyuk, you work very nicely. You’ve more than passed your initiation ton–Minhyuk?”

Minhyuk hadn’t realized that his hands were coated thickly with blood until he had felt something wet drip down his head. Now he pressed a hand to the alleyway wall, and it left a print. Standing there, trembling, tracing the impressions of long, slender red fingers with his gaze, he was re-living things he had tried so desperately to forget, though it had only been minutes, well, actually, hell—seconds ago.

That man–I stabbed him–

The world fell away as his senses were flooded with memories: taking out the plain black handkerchief (so he wouldn't leave prints), and the feeling of a dagger thrust into his hand. The victim hadn’t even seen a moment of what was coming. Minhyuk stole up behind him and encountered tensile resistance when he plunged the knife deep into the other man's neck. As he had twisted the blade cruelly, there was a croak of pain, perhaps one last weak cry for forgiveness. A red, red stain had washed from the center of the wound, running in wet streaks down the back of the poor bloke's dark suit. Then Minhyuk had finished the job with a thrust through the heart. After that, all he needed to do was push, and a bloody corpse lay on the ground, eyes open, never to move again.

It was not something he had wanted to do, but when he had been told—he went. After all, if he refused, they could kill him. Such was the mob. Dirty, dastardly, hiding in the deepest shadows.

After a moment of dead, eerie silence, the leader hissed to his comrades. “We don’t have time. Leave him here, and he’ll come around. We’ll see him back at the house, soon.”

Minhyuk wasn’t sure how long he sat there, unmoving. It might have only been seconds; but it seemed like hours, days, an eternity perhaps. Some small part of him realized how alone he was after the three other pairs of feet scurried away. Yet, he couldn’t find the will or way to follow. His brain was still whirling at what seemed like hundreds of miles an hour, trying to come to terms with himself, stuck in a cycle of never ending confusion and revulsion.

When he finally snapped back fully to the present, he found himself terrified and shivering, even through the wool of his suit. It crossed his mind that perhaps the temperature had dropped to below freezing; but almost a rebuke came back. No, that wasn’t possible. There was a telling absence of steamed, frozen breath. He was just going into shock, that was all. Something deep inside him screamed that he had to get up and move before he froze to death here. So, he did. Minhyuk pushed himself to his feet and stumbled in a direction—which happened to be the way he had come, back towards the grisly scene of his first murder. His sluggish feet carried him to the alleyway, though every ounce of him did not like the idea. His eyes widened, and he immediately realized that saliva was flooding his mouth. As if his body was in rebellion, he doubled over and lost the contents of his stomach to the ground.

Goddamn. Fuck. Fuck this. All he could do was sit there for a moment, choking and gasping, until he finally straightened up and headed forward once again, making sure to avoid the pool of vomit. Somehow, he was still convinced that going to see the dead man might perhaps be smart, after all. Peace could wait for him there, and he'd pour out his heart, maybe confess his guilt—to a policeman or two eventually, he didn’t really care. He knew he had fallen too deep. The fate was inevitable, anyway. Minhyuk had a small circle of “friends” and some meager possessions in his name, but really nothing to lose. Jail, and a life sentence for first degree manslaughter, might be a better experience than what it was made out to be.

The night was still deathly silent, like all life and sound had moved away at the circumstances that had taken place not too long ago. Minhyuk had his eyes firmly fixed on the gap that led back into the alleyway as he slowly but surely made his way there.

No police sirens were in earshot, and the crime scene was still relatively fresh, so he was stunned to find someone hovering over the dead body. The blond pulled himself back into the shadows once he saw, and covered a mouth to stifle a gasp and heavy breaths. It certainly wasn't anyone he recognized right away, from his days mingling with mobmen, anyway. The stranger was tall, having a couple inches on Minhyuk, and skinnier too, wearing a long, loose trench coat and fedora hat. One could barely see a peek of fine dark hair underneath. He was illuminated in the light of the full moon shining overhead. For a moment Minhyuk stood, unmoving, as this almost unearthly figure knelt to brush his hand over the corpse’s pale, cold brow.

Then, a distinct baritone voice hit the blond’s ear. He almost immediately knew it was the stranger's, though he couldn’t see lips moving. It was lilting, perhaps a little bit smug, and as mysterious as the man himself.

“I know you’re there.”

Minhyuk had to bite back a gasp when the tall man turned to face him. He was...handsome. True, dark circles curved under his eyes, and something seemed off. (The reason wasn't quite apparent straight away.) But it was immediately of interest that his lips were pristine and plump. They might be cracked a little bit perhaps, but still were so, so enticing. His facial structure, as well, was perfect. Not to mention his figure...he could be a model for some high end clothing catalog.

The mob man had no choice but to speak now, after so obviously having been caught. Nervously, he swallowed and cleared his throat. Despite his best effort, his voice came out weaker than he wanted. "S—so what if I am? What does it mean to you?"

"Murderers...don't usually come back." An intense, scrutinizing gaze went right through Minhyuk and into his deepest fears. Damn, there was also, unexplainably, a sudden desire blooming within him at that very moment, the more his gaze shifted across the stranger's face and form.

The platinum blond couldn't bring himself to speak for a while. Eventually, though, he managed to stutter at least something. "I—don't—u...understand?"

"Why would you want to see the aftermath of your own crime?"

"Wait--you think I killed him? You have to be joking. I'm an innocent passerby."

The stranger guffawed. "Look, don't even try lying to me. There's blood on your hands. On your face. Down the front of your suit. Even in your hair, for Chrissake." He turned away, staring into the dark at the other end of the alley. Minhyuk wasn't completely sure how the next whisper reached his ears and didn't die, even in the stale air.

"Besides, your image is imprinted on his soul."

Nothing the tall man said or did was threatening, but somehow Minhyuk on high alert. The nudge in his brain that this could be dangerous seemed to finally be getting through to him. Instinctively, he stepped forward, acting on fight impulse. It wasn't really out of boldness, but a sudden and intense fear. He thrust his hand deep into a coat pocket, ready to pull the silver revolver that was there. "Wh—who are you, anyway?"

Seemingly undisturbed by Minhyuk's sudden, intense body language, the tall boy held his ground. "Of course. Naturally, you want to know." Strained, he sighed and continued, with much difficulty, "Once...a long time ago, I was called Chae Hyungwon."

Even as it hit his ear for the first time, a burning need overtook Minhyuk to never forget the name. Somehow, it described its bearer so well—whispering of prosperity and delicacy, high class and bearing. He could be a prince. Still, he hadn't asked the most important thing. "And what are you doing here?"

"Well...there is a title, a position, I call my own, but I don't believe humans quite know it the same way we do."

"Humans? Are you saying you're not?"

"I was, once. But now...I am simply a messenger to this corrupt and evil-filled Earth. I clean up messes and that is all."

"Yeah...no. You're not making sense. Are you here to drag the body away?"

Hyungwon chuckled lowly, mirthlessly. "I don't deal with physical evidence. I'm here for this mess." When he snapped his fingers, next to him rose a smoky, grayish-pale mass, which churned and swirled to take the shape of a man, screaming eternally, mouth open in an unnatural, unhinged manner. Its features became sharply defined, even in the low light. Quickly, it became obvious that it was an exact match to the figure laying on the ground.

Minhyuk suddenly wanted to throw up again. "That's—"

"His spirit." Somehow, that lilting baritone still cut through the blond's incredulous muttering. "I am what you mortals call, perhaps...a grim reaper."

"But you are not grotesque in the least." Admittedly, at the words, the image of a hooded, robed figure with a scythe and skeleton face had come to Minhyuk's mind. "Perhaps a little pale and heavy-eyed, but..." Honestly, you're one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

"And that is where the human definition of a grim reaper has gone astray. We are not ghastly. We walk among you." Almost before he had registered it in his mind, Minhyuk found himself face to face with the taller man. "Our appointed purpose is to guide the souls of the unsaved dead to their eternal rest in hell."

The blond's jaw was stuck open, unable to utter even a sound, in a moment all thoughts replaced by those of Chae Hyungwon. He was even more ethereal up close. All his muscles urged him to just reach forward, touch him, every inch of him, indulge a sudden and insatiable desire and curiosity.

But the moment was shattered by a woman's scream. She and her boyfriend turned into the alley, probably to make out, and froze at the sight of the dead, bloody body. In moments, they noticed someone else was still there as well. Then the couple was back out again, pounding feet thrumming on the sidewalk outside.

"I better go," Hyungwon sighed. "I have lingered too long as it is."

Minhyuk's eyes shot open, and he reached forward to grab the almost too-warm forearm of the taller boy. "Wai—wait, will I see you again?"

It was the other's turn to seem almost surprised. For a long moment he pondered what to say, before admitting, "Perhaps. Wherever I am needed, I will be." Then dark, stately Hyungwon was disappearing, fading into the shadows, gone without a trace.

"Minhyuk, come get ready for supper."

The calling voice jerked Minhyuk out of his reverie on the couch, and stirring slightly, the blond sighed. "Alright, give me a moment, Kihyun-ah."

A couple of weeks had passed since the whole alley incident, and as expected, nothing had come from the sudden and terrible death of the mob man, at least from the police. No investigation was made, no charges pressed. Not even a blurb about it was put in the daily newspaper. Minhyuk could feel the effects in his own life, though. Some of the higher-ups, and also those in his level of prestige, were more willing to look him in the eye or acknowledge his presence. He was finally considered a mob brother, after close to seven years of slaving for it, day in and day out. He hadn't chosen the life, but that was all he had now. Ever since he had been pulled in by him. Minhyuk cringed and growled under his breath at the thought of the man who insisted on being called sir, and...was practically the reason for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Even, perhaps, his very genesis.

But that was an issue for later. Minhyuk, having taken a moment like he said, pushed himself up and wandered into the kitchen, where five place settings were laid out his friend's kitchen table. Four pottery plates, and one paper. The very top of a booster seat poked up over the edge of the tablecloth. Yoo Kihyun was setting out everything they'd need for Bulgogi, a slight smile playing across his normally-serious expression. "Make yourself comfy. We'll dig in as soon as Jooheon, Changkyun, and Yujin are here."

Minhyuk did as he was told, pulling out the chair farthest from the booster, not the one with Kihyun's jacket draped over the back, either. In the midst of his friend's trips back and forth to the table, the blond felt himself start to drift off into his own thoughts again. Chae Hyungwon... As much as he had tried to forget the grim reaper entirely, Minhyuk had been unable to. The sight of his strained but handsome face hovering near his own was the ever persistent ghost of a memory. He desperately wanted to touch him, and probe deeper into the mystery of his tall, slender presence. The problem was though, how he was going to be there when Hyungwon appeared? He could go to nursing homes and things, places where fresh death was thick. But all at once it came back that the reaper had said it himself: "Our appointed purpose is to guide the souls of the unsaved dead to their eternal rest in hell." So simply old and dying dead would not work. The sudden violent death of criminals was needed instead. An idea started to tickle at the back of his mind.

At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Both boys didn't flinch; they both immediately knew who it was. Two low and laughing voices were the confirmation. Then, right on cue, a small face peeked around the corner. Minhyuk couldn't help but smile brightly, and a warm feeling filled his heart. "Oh!" He exclaimed, cutely. "Is that a Yujinnie I see?"

"You're right! It's me!" A five year old girl giggled and hopped into the doorway. The blond man held his arms out, and she ran right to them. "Uncle Min'ook!"

"Yujinnie!" The girl planted a gentle kiss on Minhyuk's cheek, and he smiled brightly, hugging her close, warmly, tightly.

Moments behind her were a familiar pair of dimpled faces: Jooheon and Changkyun. Their fingers came untwined as they stepped in to greet their friends. "Now, now, Yujin, Don't crush Minhyuk in that strong grip of yours," Changkyun teased.

"I won't, Koon-ah!" She said, and promptly turned to crawl up Minhyuk's chest, making grabby hands. This time it was toward the other, short, black-haired man, standing nearby with a towel over his shoulder. "Uncle Ki'oon!"

"Hello, cutie." Gingerly, Kihyun took the girl from Minhyuk, setting her on his aproned hip and booping her nose. "How are you and your dads?"

"P'etty good."

By then, everyone had their affectionate gazes fixed on Yujin's glowing face. Her cuteness was irresistible, even to people as hardened and tested as all four of the older men were. They all had seen and done their fair share of shit for the mob. Jooheon, for instance, was a sniper, and had taken out some pretty prominent city figures. Changkyun had been a male prostitute before dedicating himself solely to his boyfriend and now husband. Kihyun could cheat at poker like it was nothing, and had a golden ear and tongue for intel. Not to mention seduction skills worth boasting about. And Minhyuk...well, you, reader, already know about Minhyuk. But, seeing this now, nobody could believe that. The four of them were together for one purpose and one purpose only: to celebrate the smiling and giggling bundle of cute joy that was the two youngest boys's adopted daughter.

In minutes, all five of them were seated, and Kihyun was cooking the first round of meat. Of course, the first few pieces went to the little girl, who widened her eyes at the taste. "This is really good! T'ank you, Ki-yoon-ah!"

"Of course, Yujin." Kihyun seemed to be glowing at the little girl's praise. She had them all wrapped around her little finger. When Jooheon and Changkyun had decided to adopt a child a couple of months ago, none of them had been prepared in the slightest for the wild ride that awaited them. First, they went to a few orphanages, looking at potential matches, but it wasn't until the last one that things fell into place. Yujin had taken to them like a duckling to water. They had fallen head over heels and though the process to bring her home was long and complicated, they had persevered. Now she was an irreplaceable part of the family.

In no time, it seemed, The meat, rice, seaweed and water was gone, and everyone—most particularly the older boys—were leaning back in contentment. Kihyun looked ready to fall asleep, as well as Jooheon. However Changkyun still seemed pretty lively, and so did Yujin. "Play with me, Koon-ah." She begged, reaching her arms out for her younger dad.

"Alright, missy." The soft maknae scooped his daughter up into his arms.

"Uncle Min'ook-ah!" Little arms reached for Minhyuk as well. "You too!"

"After I do the dishes and help clean up. Ok?" Giving her a promise and a kiss on the forehead seemed to satisfy her. Nodding, she pushed on Changkyun's shoulder, nudging him to the living room. He only stopped for a moment, to lean over and peck Jooheon on the lips, before they were wandering out.

Minhyuk wasted no time in starting to collect dirty plates and taking them to the sink. It was a potentially long job, but he didn't mind. It was the least he could do to repay his close friend for the food. Also, it gave him a few more seconds of silence. Eventually, Kihyun and Jooheon moved away from the kitchen, allowing the blond some head space. He couldn't get the events of his initiation and the following strange encounter out of his head. He was almost totally lost in them—it was a miracle he didn't drop anything or break dishes.

Some time passed, exactly how much, Minhyuk wasn't sure, before little, running footsteps came into earshot again. Sure enough, Yujin came barreling around the corner. The blond couldn't help but grin as he dried a plate and set it with the others, to be put away later. "What are you doing, squirt?"

"Shh. I'm hiding from Koon-ah!" With that, she gave a giggle and dived forward, hands scrabbling for Minhyuk's calves. The feeling of small, chubby fingers on his ankles made the blond's heart warm and his smile grow. Maybe one day, he'd be able to have a child of his own, a small person who'd he selflessly give his love to—

In my dreams.

"Uncle Min'ook?" The five-year-old's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Minhyuk glanced down to see her curious eyes on him again. "W'acha t'inkin 'bout?"

"Oh, nothing, Yujinnie," he smiled encouragingly, the best he could. "Just grown-up stuff."

She didn't quite seem to be convinced, though; and a brief second later, she asked a question that flipped Minhyuk's world upside-down.

"You've seen him, haven't you?"

She could have been talking about anyone, but for some reason, Minhyuk's heart nearly stopped at the question. "Seen who?" he replied, continuing to force a pleasant expression.

"The tall, nice man...in dark clothes. He has big lips, too." She traced her mouth, as if her own was thick and luscious as well. For talking about someone who dealt with death and damned souls, her voice wasn't any less cheery than before.

Some bile rose to the blond's mouth, and he forced it back down, making his throat burn. He managed to choke a question out, somehow. "Is he really handsome?"

"Yeah-yeah." Yejin nodded vigorously. "You did meet him!"

"Yes." His answer came carefully. "Have you?"

A little 'mhm' sound was her confirmation. Now Minhyuk couldn't wet his lips, and he was too parched to speak. Yujin's voice came out in almost a whisper, and she shuffled her feet. "I was still at the or'panage, and one night I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get up. He was in the hall. I was scared at first, but he was so nice. He smiled at me and gave me a pat on the head."

"Why was he there in the dark?"

Yujin furrowed her eyebrows, mood shifting. "He said that after he was gone, I wouldn't have to cry anymore. And Mrs. Matron died."

Was this really real? Was anything anymore? A plate came close to slipping out of his hand, and he couldn't help but gape. Faintly, in the back of his head, Minhyuk recalled that Mrs. Matron was the mean, cruel former orphanage headmistress, who had treated the children like slaves. Because of the mob, he knew a lot of evil, dastardly people, but he couldn't imagine one who looked down on and wanted to exploit even the smallest orphan child. Some of the things that Yujin said sometimes about her put his stomach in knots and made his blood run ice cold.

In a moment, however, his mind returned to the tall grim reaper. Hyungwon had...shown her affection? He hadn't as much as let the corners of his mouth tip up in Minhyuk's presence, but somehow the idea of him smiling to a little girl wasn't alien at all.

But then, suddenly:

"You like him, don't you, Uncle Min'ook?"

The blond's mind went blank, and he scrambled in his head for an answer. Thankfully, he didn't have to, as just then, Changkyun peeked around the corner and locked eyes with his daughter. "Yujinnie!" He chortled. "There you are! You're a good hider. Or, maybe Minhyuk hyung is just a good hiding place, huh?"

There was a bright giggle, and the girl ran to the younger man's arms. "He is a good hiding spot." After another moment, she piped up again. "I was telling him about the tall man!" Something went through Changkyun's eyes, maybe alarm. "You know him, too, don't you, Uncle Min'ook?" She was so eager; Minhyuk almost felt bad for choosing to ignore the question and not say anything. Dropping his eyes to the dishes, he instead turned to put a few away.

The younger boy hummed disapprovingly. "Maybe we should get you home and to bed. The last time you talked about the tall man, you were so sleepy you couldn't keep your eyes open."

"But it's true!" A gigantic pout appeared, and a few tears as well. "He said his name was 'ywon—'yugwon—or something."

"Hyungwon," Minhyuk murmured under his breath, and Yujin snapped her head around.

"See, Koon-ah!"

"Let's talk about this with Jooheon later, ok?" Though Changkyun's voice was calm and even, relaxed and unstrained, Minhyuk could feel his intense gaze. It drilled into the older's head like a factory machine. It was all too clear that he didn't believe Yujin's story, and was trying to chastise his hyung for entertaining it. Who in their right mind would do the opposite? It was ridiculous—to someone who had never met a grim reaper before.

When Minhyuk returned to his small apartment that night, jumbled thoughts swirled in his head. He got all ready for bed and climbed under the covers, but ended up laying awake. He thought that he had been in a confused state when he left, but that was nothing compared to now. There were all these questions prodding him, answers he needed to obtain. What of Chae Hyungwon? Where was he now? As much as Minhyuk knew it was wrong, and he was being irrational, he hoped that the tall boy was thinking of him at least a little. What was this new feeling, like butterflies blooming at the thought of the tall grim reaper's presence? Puppy love? Lust?

For all the mess in his head, his heart beat to one thing and one thing alone: No matter what it takes, I will find him again.

The blond tossed and turned for a long time before finally, around 2am, he finally paid attention to the tingling in his restless legs and got up, flipping on the lamp at his bedside. Without really knowing why, but with a purpose lingering in a dark corner of his mind, he approached his closet. There was a safe stashed away in the back corner, and he pulled it open. The object he needed was right at hand, wrapped in a particular, black, bloody handkerchief—the knife. He had pulled it from that first victim, perhaps as a token of sorts. But now, the more Minhyuk stared at the dried blood on the blade and traced its sleek, deadly shape with his gaze, he grew to see it not as a weapon and instrument of death. It was a chance. A chance to make all his dreams come true. Something inside him was screaming that this was what he needed to finally find peace, to set the wrongs in his life right. To rid the world of some little evil.

The next day, Minhyuk walked into the hideout with the dagger strapped to his leg, its sharp point grazing his thigh. Jabs of pain, and a small trail of blood that soaked into his sock reminded him what he was supposed to do. He was determined: in order to see the love of his life again, and settle a personal vendetta, he'd become a living nightmare to those who'd wronged him and his family. Starting, of course, with the man formerly known as his father's best friend. Ah, what a lying title. Bang Jeongmin was in all reality, a traitor, one of many. Minhyuk knew who all of them were by now—there was Jeongmin-hyung and seven others, plus him.

See, Minhyuk's parents had been part of the mafia, too. Not just his father, but his mother as well. Mr. Lee, senior was a bootlegger, making dangerous and highly illegal runs between alcohol-soaked territories and ones under prohibition; he was well-known to all the speakeasy owners in the area. Mrs. Lee, on the other hand, sometimes masqueraded as a prostitute and could use her way with men to get whatever intel she needed from the police. Quite a few attempts at justice were foiled thanks to her talents. They weren't bad people, just desperate ones who found themselves tangled up in shady activities. Each simply had a will to survive and their own, fallible human heart. This was clear in what happened with Mrs. Lee once her future husband started to woo her. She knew right away that he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and resigned from her life of deceit. Faithfully, she waited for him every morning, afternoon, and night. Though she still helped where she could, she didn't do many of the things she had before, no matter the offer or opportunity. All she wanted was happiness with her husband.

Mr. Lee never failed to come home to her, either. By all outward appearances, their life was peaceful and content. They were very much in love, and got married fairly soon after their romance began. It seemed that nothing could keep them apart.

Oh, people tried. First there was the fact that after getting married, some men seemingly took it upon themselves to hurt Mr. Lee. He started to appear more frequently with fresh, bleeding cuts and bruised eyes. It eventually became so bad that his face was constantly marred, almost unrecognizable. Despite Mr. Lee's tolerance and patience through this abuse, it didn't stop, like he hoped. He was still working so hard to make sure the mob's every need was met, and yet they still often beat him. He began to suspect some bigger player was involved in all this. In particular, there was one big man who looked at the bootlegger with an especially malicious eye. His name was Mr. Cha Jaemin, and he was a new player, a star in the underground. It seemed that every single woman in sight pined after him and his empire. Yet, he was infamous and wanted because he was ruthless, and his venomous smile was enough to instill fear in the heart of everyone. It wasn't like Mr. Lee could just pin everything on the rising kingpin, though. A motive, if any, was unclear, and he couldn't directly prove it was him ordering the beatdowns.

Mrs. Lee, meanwhile, was suffering greatly as well. Her husband was now a far cry from the man she loved and had married. At least his personality and heart hadn't changed. To her, he was also still so handsome. Still, she worried, though for a long time she was too scared to ask about details, keeping her questions far away from everyone, even the mob contacts she still had. The frequency with which she pulled him to the bathroom and applied ointment and bandages was getting to her, though, and it finally broke her spirit completely. There was a night when, crying and sobbing into his shoulder, she implored him to tell her why he was always so beaten up. If there was anything she could do to make it stop, she wouldn't waste a second.

That was just the thing, though. He was afraid that if he spilled everything, there would be terrible consequences. "The higher ups have decided they like to pick on me, for some reason," he said softly, caressing her cheek. "Don't worry about me. It'll stop once they realize that they owe me nearly everything they have." Then he leaned down for a passionate kiss. He could barely keep from hissing in pain when his lip tore open again, but all he wanted was to soothe her with gentle touches, and satisfy her need for more when it burned hot in her breast and core.

One night, she waited and waited up for him. 1am passed, but he still wasn't there. It was the first time in years he hadn't returned before midnight, and though Mrs. Lee tried her hardest not to worry, she couldn't sleep. Laying in bed, tossing and turning, she prayed to a higher power that he wasn't dead or dying, just truly held up at work. Even, arrested and in jail. Anything was better than not being able to see her husband again.

The door creaked open. She was facing away, and for a moment she held her breath and let a smile play on her lips, expecting to hear the telltale signs of Mr. Lee getting ready for bed before a warm body slid in next to her.

But instead, rough hands grabbed her shoulder, pulling her over onto her back. The faces of several men glowered over her, and a cool cloth was pressed to her mouth and nose. She tried to struggle and fight, but suddenly she was being pulled down, down into blackness...

This was what she had told thirteen-year-old Minhyuk in her last days. Despite his young age, he could remember everything about how she looked lying in a hospital bed, an unknown affliction tearing the rest of her life from her. Minhyukie had been crying and unable to say a word, listening in horror as she had proceeded to relate how she had woken up the next morning to a red-faced, incredulous, and livid Mr. Lee stroking her forehead. A broken man, he could barely keep from crying. Pain washed through her every nerve, especially between her legs. Of course, it didn't take her long to realize that she had been drugged and gang-raped.

It wasn't until the traumatized boy was older that he learned exactly what that implied, and, more importantly, why it had happened. See, Mr. Cha had been in love with Mrs. Lee, and only wanting her for himself, became irrationally angry when she had fallen for her husband. Selfish and full of desire, he indeed had been the one giving orders to treat Mr. Lee dirty. When that didn't work, next he organized a group of his closest men around him, with the sole intent to force their way into the Lee household and violate the young wife. If that horror story wasn't enough, Mrs. Lee became pregnant and birthed a baby boy nine months after the incident: Minhyuk.

Now, twenty-three years later, the mogul was the one and only object of Minhyuk's blinding hate, but also his boss and one of the richest and most powerful men in the city. The blond felt so ashamed that he had looked up to him as a mentor, before this dark twist had come to light. Minhyuk could potentially be—and probably was—Mr. Cha's son, and that made the young man sick. Hell, he had nearly lost his lunch and dinner all over the ornate office rug when at the age of sixteen, he had pulled Minhyuk into his office and used a claim on Minhyuk's true paternity to rein the boy in. Afterwards, there were plenty of situations where it was brought it up again. It was an effort to keep Minhyuk loyal and compliant, and so far, it had worked.

After the deathbed confession, Minhyuk had slowly come to realize that his parents were completely aware of this, but had treated him like their child anyway. That touched the young man's tender heart (or whatever was left of it, anyway) and made tears flow on so many occasions. To Minhyuk, Mr. Lee would always be his true father, not that ugly man who was loving, but in all the wrong, twisted ways.

Somehow, Minhyuk managed to convince himself that this was the true reason he was going to start his crusade to "murder in the name of good". It wasn't just because he longed for another encounter with Hyungwon. Though yes—he wanted to see the man again. Some considered him to be death itself, but it brought the blond strange new life.

It was all too easy to lure Jeongmin into a trap. All it took was the tantalizing promise of premium Cuban cigars. Minhyuk hated them, but he knew that others, including his target, would do anything for them. "Lemme see the goods first," The older mob man demanded when they met in the sandy, grimy alley, the same one the first murder had gone down in. Minhyuk grinned and casually held out the open box filled with the tidy rolls of tobacco, a treasure he had worked hard for.

Jeongmin reached for them, but the younger pulled away at the last moment, tsking. "Where's my payment?"

As the traitor grumbled and reached into his pocket for his wallet, that was when the blond made his move. In nearly the exact same place he made his very first stab wound, the bloody knife plunged deep into Jeongmin's skin. Surprised at such a powerful and sudden move from the normally-meek and timid Minhyuk, his eyes went wide, and he croaked the beginning of his murderer's name. The familiar blood ran across the blond's hands, and he gripped the handle firmly and pulled it forward, through quivering flesh. In brief seconds, the grizzled mobster was lying on the ground, pale, cold and unmoving. Minhyuk stood, trembling, trying to get over the waves of shock and adrenaline, like the time before. Unconsciously, he ran his hand through his hair, getting the part bloody and wet.

When he glanced up, Hyungwon was standing there in the moonlight, staring at him. "You again," He said in that lazy drawl, and knelt down to wave his hand over the dead man's face. Minhyuk couldn't help but notice the gray mist that swirled up as he did so.

He chuckled. "Of course it's me. Who else would you expect?"

"I take thousands of murdered souls every day, sir—"

"Minhyuk's the name. Lee Minhyuk." A strange, wide smile grew on the blond's face. "And if that's true, than you remember me. I'm flattered."

Hyungwon's eyes widened, mouth falling open. "Okay, right. Minhyuk. It's not a wonder I didn't forget. You can see me. Not everyone has that honor."

In the moment, a few questions rushed through Minhyuk's head: Why were he and Yujin able to see Hyungwon, after all? Perhaps death was simply as lonely a fate as it was said to be, and they had happened upon the reaper at the brief point in time when he was making his call. Still, as soon as the musings were there, they were gone again, replaced by a single, voiced thought. "You know, I'm going to keep killing until you see me how I see you."

Hyungwon's eyebrow perked, and he glanced up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Until you realize how beautiful you look bent over a dead body." Honey-laced words slipped out before Minhyuk could stop them.

It was easy to miss the small smirk that formed on the reaper's face, but it certainly did not go unnoticed by the human. "Did you just confess to me?"

"Perhaps I did."

"Hm. I'll have to mark this down as one of the more interesting experiences I've had in my years on the job."

"It better be the last time someone says anything like that to you, too." Minhyuk growled. Suddenly overtaken by boldness, he stepped forward, over the corpse, to tug on Hyungwon's white collar. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the grim reaper bent over all too easily. Their lips met in a one-sided, rough kiss. When they pulled away, the shorter man's eyes were heavy with want. Almost, need. It pained him to see Hyungwon walk back into the shadows and vanish. Though Minhyuk's lust in the moment gave him more of a rush than killing, he also wanted to keep teasing, have the beautiful boy keep him at arm's length for a long time to come.

As Lee Minhyuk watched the blood wash down the drain that night, he stroked himself and violently came to fantasies of the ever-so-tantalizing, otherworldly heat of death's harbinger. Talk about a guilty pleasure.

So, Lee Minhyuk became a serial killer. As the number of times he killed rose, the line between the bliss of seeing his enemies' deaths and encountering death itself blurred together. He always got a kick and a rush out of how they always agreed to meet him alone, thinking that there was absolutely no way that Lee Minhyuk, the pansy, could hurt them. Then when the first metallic kiss of the knife reduced them to a babbling mess, their eyes opened wide. Right after that thrill, another always came. For a while, seeing the grim reaper was enough, though he remained distant, quiet, and passive. Thus it was that Minhyuk's life became one of thirst, for blood and the gaze of Chae Hyungwon.

At some point, people within the crime ring realized that there was someone picking them off, systematically getting rid of certain individuals. After the sixth man fell, Mr. Cha decided that enough was enough and they needed to catch this psycho son of a bitch, now. He might have also been aware that his own life was hanging in the balance, but under the guise of caring for his men, he decided to put one of his lackeys on the case. The appointed scapegoat would start probing around to see if anyone was helping this killer, and what he was being paid for taking out those on his hit list. Well, that lackey happened to be Shin "Wonho" Hoseok.

Just like many others, Hoseok was a good guy who had gotten tangled up in bad situations. Some of the victims had been, too, before their untimely demises. So understandably, he was scared. He came into this new position—a promotion, of sorts—knowing that it might put him on the list for elimination. He was grateful, however, and prepared. So, Wonho listened attentively to what his boss had to say. Mr. Cha passed a few documents over, mostly crime scene reports taken from the police files. All of these violent and systematic killings had been assumed to be syndicate-related, and so the paid officers on the force had kept hush-hush so far, out of the public news, not bothering to follow up on investigations.

The handsome, yet strong young man set straight to work, poring through the files. Then he started to stick his hands in the muck, calling his contacts one by one. Because of his sexy body and cute smile, he could get pretty much whatever he wanted, from anyone he set his sights on. Still, it didn't seem to matter, as all he found was fear like his own. So many people were scared that they'd be next, that somehow this twisted, knife-wielding figure would find them in the night and end their lives prematurely. Wonho couldn't find anyone willing to admit they were paying an assassin, and he doubted that anyone he talked to was lying about not knowing anything of that nature, so he quickly became stuck. And with time not on his side (another two men had been slain while he talked to everyone he could think of) something had to be done. He had no choice but to go to his last resort. It would be a long shot, he knew, and very risky, but if he was persistent, things might just pay off.

So, on a Tuesday afternoon, he strolled into a stone building downtown and made his way to the third floor, where a cozy lobby was tucked away. The petite brunette secretary frowned when she looked in her book and saw he hadn't called in advance.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but Mr. Son rarely sees clients without an appointment."

"That's okay," Hoseok said, cheerily. "Can't hurt to ask, huh?"

"He's busy right now," she seemed to be growing ever more flustered and annoyed at Hoseok's sunny smile. "You don't have much of a chance, sir--"

"I'm willing to wait." Promptly, Wonho went to one of the hard chairs in the lobby, set his folders on his lap, and started to glance out the window, knowing that looking at nothing would set her at unease.

Though the girl behind the desk still huffed at him for a while, his hard work paid off, eventually. It only took a half-hour, too. Muttering something like fine, she sighed and picked up the telephone at her side, holding down the receiver hook and waiting for a moment. Presently, there was a click, and a male voice floated through, faintly: "Yes, Miss Hani?"

"Mr. Son...I know that you usually don't take walk-ins, but there's a young man out here who won't leave. He's staring out the window, driving me crazy, and I swear his pout is something even the most hardened of men can't resist—"

"Alright, well if he's so insistent, send him in, then." (Wonho cheered inwardly, but he fought the smile that wanted to grow on his face.)

"Of course, sir." As the secretary set down the phone, her eyes drifted back up to Hoseok, who had stood to await directions. "Down the hall, on the left. It's pretty hard to miss his name on the window. Knock before you go in."

The mafia man gave her a deep bow and polite thanks, and made his way closer to the office he needed. He passed two doors before stopping in front of where Son Hyunwoo, Private Detective was carefully hand-painted on a frosted pane in gold letters. Despite his outwardly cool and collected countenance, the files couldn't seem to stop shifting in his hand, and he was sweating underneath his collar. If he was caught associating with anyone but his brothers, he would be killed for sure, and not by the serial murderer. The only thing Hoseok felt could help him now, though, was a fresh, experienced pair of eyes, and he had come to some of the best ones in the world. South Korea's resident sleuth, Son Hyunwoo wasn't just a household name in his own country; the man was famous internationally. He had an uncanny ability to crack the toughest cases, even some that were decades cold. No wonder he had been so hard to find and see, people off the street must often demand his services.

Hoseok raised his fist, knocked firmly three times, and was greeted by a flat "come in". He didn't need a second prompting, turning the burnished brass knob and slipping into the room. Usually, he wasn't one to be shy, but all of a sudden Wonho was aware of a pair of eyes on him, and the weight this meeting carried. He could barely look at the investigator's desk, let alone the man himself, as he turned toward it and bowed. "Son Hyunwoo? I'm Wonho. I'm sorry to bother you, if you're busy right now. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

A warm and rich (though slightly robotic) voice hit the mobster's ear and melted there. "It's fine, and you're welcome. Please, no need to be so formal. Take a seat, would you?" Immediately, Hoseok scrambled to do as he was told, settling down in a hard wooden chair again before gathering the courage to glance up. When he finally was able, he couldn't stop a gasp from slipping his lips, and his eyes widened. The detective was--handsome. He had dark hair and broad, muscular shoulders that reminded Wonho of his own. They were filling out an almost-too-small white button up shirt and suspenders. His lips were parted a little, head popped up from a pile of paperwork. Thick glasses framed his eyes, and his pen tapped gently on the desk. This was him? The world-famous sleuth and warrior for justice? It had to be, Hoseok thought. He had the same voice as on the phone, and the name was on the door and also a desk placard, so there was no room for doubt.

"Something wrong? What is it?" The detective asked after a long moment of silence.

Shaking his head side to side to clear the jumble of thoughts, Hoseok chuckled. "Sorry. I just--wasn't expecting someone so young."

And hot.

"Well, what did you think you'd see?"

"Ah--I really can't say. Someone graying I think, the picture of a grizzled veteran. Or, maybe tall and skinny, like Sherlock Holmes. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-four," Hyunwoo replied. "Yeah...many people are thrown the first time they meet me."

"I mean, it's not that you don't look like a P.I, and a damn good one at that too. It's just that your reputation precedes you...makes you seem older, more experienced, ya know?"

"I know." Something akin to sadness flitted across the detective's face, but then he squared himself and gave a curt nod. "But I promise that I'm every bit as good as what they say in the papers."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Probably good in bed, too, Hoseok thought fleetingly, but shoved it down. Now the two men wore matching smirks. "Well, um, that said...let's get to the point, huh?"

Hyunwoo leaned back and gestured for Hoseok to continue. The mob man swallowed. "Before I ask...I need to make it clear that if you choose to help me, you might be making enemies with the law. You'll be saving lives, but depending on where you stand, whether those lives are worth saving is...questionable." Turning and rummaging around in the pocket of his coat, he produced three one hundred dollar bills and laid them on the desk. "Here's some money for your trouble, don't worry, it's mine. Take it as a little promise, and payment of a walk-in fee...though I doubt you have one in the first place."

Something glinted deep behind Hyunwoo's pupils. Though anyone would have expected it to be about the cash, Hoseok realized with a jolt that wasn't the case. The detective seemed to be more interested in the hand that paid it, and his eyes narrowed, searching Hoseok's face. "Okay...I'm intrigued. Go on."

"I don't mean to dance around anything with you, and that said, I think you should first know that I work for Mr. Cha Jaemin."

"As in, rules the city and the black market...Kingpin of crime, most wanted on every list, Cha Jaemin?" Hyunwoo seemed incredulous.

"The one and only." Anyone even close to the police and crime in this city knew the big boss's name. Just speaking it had a way of instilling fear into people. "But this is not for him. This is for the boys...my brothers, if you know what I mean. See, there's been someone picking us off, and we're not quite sure who. He's murdered eight of us in the last three weeks." Hoseok leaned back and flipped open the file on top of his pile, turning it toward the investigator.

Hyunwoo took it, and scanned the document briefly. "Police reports...where'd you get these?"

"Mr. Cha has his ways." Hoseok, himself, wasn't sure how. Perhaps a dirty cop or inside man snuck them out for him. "Some of the men being killed are close to the Boss, and have at one point or another been his close friends. But the reason I'm here, talking to you, is..." Pulling out another file, Hoseok opened it and placed it on top of the other. "This is Moon Jongup...or was Moon Jongup, a buddy of mine before the Mafia killer ended his life. He was a good guy...just a runner, pulled into crime against his will. He had a wife and unborn child, who now are without a husband and father. There are a lot of us who are scared, Mr. Son, because we're in the same boat. We have families and dreams just like any other person, and we're afraid we're going to be next."

The detective paused, staring at the photograph of Jongup's bloody body. It was a long minute before he spoke again. "What about you, Wonho?" His voice rumbled quietly. Hoseok swallowed when Hyunwoo's gaze met his again. "Why are you here, asking me for help?"

"I'm the one being paid to work the case, but not in this way. Mr. Cha is convinced that this is a paid hitman and sent me to talk to people, but I've probed my entire web and still nothing. I've run out of viable options. Besides, I have people I want to protect, too."

"So, then I take it that Wonho isn't your real name."

It meant protector. Hoseok had started calling himself that, and it stuck with everyone. He could have, should have, denied it. It wouldn't have been a stretch to smile wistfully and pass it off as coincidence. For some reason, however, he already trusted Hyunwoo. "Yeah, no, it's not." The mobster sighed and dropped his gaze. "My given is Hoseok--Shin Hoseok."

"That one fits you, too." The mobster dared to glance up, and had to stop and get his heart beating again. Hyunwoo was smiling, showing white teeth and crescent moon eyes with wrinkles on the outsides. Damn that cute expression. Maybe Hoseok shouldn't have trusted the detective with his knowledge, because all of a sudden blush was rising to his cheeks.

The moment was fleeting, and sorely missed as Hyunwoo's expression set, determination flashing behind his eyes. "Alright. I shall help you, no matter the consequences to my practice or reputation. If there is one man like you we can save...It will be worth everything." The detective offered his hand, and Hoseok met it with a firm grip. Happiness danced on the younger man's face. Tears were gathering in the corners, tears of relief, that was. Maybe together, they'd be able to take down this killer. They traded files, and Hyunwoo took the others and started combing. "So...what makes you so certain that this is one man doing all these by himself?"

"I don't know. There's not really any concrete proof, other than the patterns are similar and the victims' connections. Most of us--who kill, or have killed at one point or another, do it in much the same way. So yes, it could be a couple or few separate individuals. I just have a feeling about it being one person, someone no one would suspect, and that's why he's been so successful thus far."

"Fair enough. You know, looking at all these pictures side by side..." Hyunwoo pulled a couple and laid them out in front of him. "The placement of the knife wound, dominant hand, and position of the bodies all point to a single murderer as well. A...serial killer, at the stage this is at."

"God...just as I'd feared. We have a lunatic on our hands."

"It seems so."

He wouldn't admit it to himself, but for Minhyuk, it boiled down to the fact that he was getting pretty desperate. Every kill, and every day that passed, only brought him closer to his goals, but at times it didn't seem to be enough. He tried everything he could think of, no matter how inane or complicated, but still the object of his affection was transient and out of reach. Hyungwon didn't return his love, though he did seem to be opening up. It gave the blond hope, but he needed more time, precious hours, days that he might not have. The list of the original nine left alive was always shortening. Plus, he could feel himself growing in favor with Mr. Cha. The Boss often asked for Minhyuk to come into his office, only to tell him something inconsequential and send him away again, or "have him around" (the younger man heard from others what this would lead to, and strangely, he wasn't fazed). The killer inside of him starting to unintentionally look for other motives. One he found was a dogfighting ring using family pets stolen out of yards. Those who showed up to watch often bet which canine would die first. All those poor slain dogs made Minhyuk's soft side hurt and anger flare, and soon the illegal matches had to stop because spectators and organizers were too afraid.

Then things got out of hand—the body count expanded to fifteen. It was getting harder, as well, to lure victims out in the open. People started to notice that the mafia killer had a pattern. Men who usually were unafraid of anything now ducked for cover, and paled at the mention of the string of murders. Confusion reigned, above all, regarding the identity of the killer, and people scrambled to make accusations, all false ones. Minhyuk found himself almost drunk on this feeling of power, no matter how anonymous it was. He now enjoyed the feeling of blood on his hands, thick and warm, almost hot. Also, the sight of red mixed with clear water, swirling down the shower drain, became a constant he depended on.

Hyungwon, of course, wasn't aware of all of this, or the human's vendetta. He had his job, and that was it. Time to linger was not afforded him. Still, the grim reaper was all too conscious of the obsession. After that second meeting, and Minhyuk's kiss, the taller boy tried to keep himself detached and cold, hoping it would go away. That quickly became a flimsy wish. Time and again he was sent to collect another slain soul, and as soon as he arrived on the scene, knew who had done it. The blond's pattern was all too clear, and he would always be waiting. It was getting harder to ignore the urgency in the human's fleeting touches. He often grabbed Hyungwon's hand and begged him to stay, if only for one more minute. The puppy-like eyes and little pout was hard to resist, so perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise when it happened for the first time, and Hyungwon found himself acquiescing. A heart still existed in his chest, after all, even if it wasn't beating. Rolling his eyes, he pulled Minhyuk into a hug, though it wasn't warm--literally. (The reaper was practically undead, so he didn't have body heat.) Minhyuk didn't seem to mind though, nuzzling into the taller's neck and squeezing him affectionately in return. That seemed to placate him until their next meeting, when again the shorter asked to be held, and again Hyungwon gave in.

The tall grim reaper hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, he had been a twisted double agent. Though he started out working just for his own country, with time, greed became his vice. No one could resist the handsome soldier's charms and good looks. Soon he was playing every side he could for money and power. Minhyuk was a murderer, but Hyungwon had been so much more. One of the curses of him "living" to walk the earth and collect souls was that he could remember and name off every one of his kills, conquests, and underhanded activities, even two hundred years after he had committed them. On that last day, he walked into his bed-chamber at night, shut the door behind him, and was met with the point of a knife digging into the nape of his neck. He didn't need to know which one of his enemies was there lying in wait, because it really didn't matter. He challenged the person in the darkness to just get it over with already, and they had. (It was a woman, whose husband Hyungwon had fucked and killed a few weeks before.)

He expected to go to hell, but didn't imagine it to be full of ashen-pale, tangible people, beings that could almost be alive. At his curious gaze, they steered him away from the lines of other straggling souls and brought him to a lavishly-furnished room. These were the quarters of the shining deity, Lucifer. That day he had learned that he could see death, so he was to become death, himself. Some people earned it, like in his case, with all the wrong they'd done in their brief Earthly stay, and others just never lost the ability to look upon the face of a reaper after growing out of childhood. Hyungwon would still have a body, and a memory, but his emotions and free will would be stripped completely. Or, so Satan told him. Now, though, as the reaper carried out orders, cursed to do the same wretched thing for the rest of eternity, something was different. He wasn't supposed to be feeling anything, and yet he was. Was he truly changing, or...maybe, was Minhyuk changing him?

Because despite the reaper's determination not to get too close, somewhere along the way, the man who murdered to see death was causing a stir in his chest. Sometimes Hyungwon could swear that blood coursed languidly through his veins once more when he emerged on crime scenes that were so clearly the blond's. It had been a long time since the reaper had been needed like this, but that wasn't quite convinced that this was the sole reason why Lee Minhyuk succeeded in breaking him down. The shorter boy was not the kind of person Hyungwon would have liked to see in life, but death had changed him, and he came to appreciate the kinder things in the world. Certainly, one of them was how cute Minhyuk's smile was, another the change in his countenance when he saw the grim reaper, and yet another his uneven blink. Then there was the aesthetic side. Hyungwon came to look forward to stepping out of the mist, into the night, and seeing how the moonlight fell on the soft features of Minhyuk's face. Even the blood that often dripped from his hands was sexy, and how the other always got his hair red and wet from running his fingers through it. Before long, Hyungwon realized that he was majorly screwed. Because despite how he knew it was so wrong to love the human, he couldn't help the fact that he had taken over his entire existence. It was only a matter of time until he would crack.

One fine, breezy night, Hyungwon emerged upon a familiar scene. A body was laying on the ground, knife embedded in that well-placed spot on the neck, as like so many times before. There was one crucial thing missing, though: the murderer. Hyungwon about panicked and was going to look around, but then a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. A body pressed into his back, and lips, hot and full, moved against his shoulder. "Hello, sexy boy," Minhyuk murmured into the wool of the reaper's long trench coat.

So many times, Hyungwon had considered returning the murderer's affection, allowing himself to fall in love. But he could never bring himself to. There was too big of a rift between them, and it made things even more painful when they were close like this. Sighing, the taller tried to hold out. "You know there's no way we could possibly be together—"

"Fuck that." The hug became a vice grip, and the grim reaper jumped. He had never heard Minhyuk angry before. "We're together now. What if we could, even it's just for seconds at a time? Do you want me like I want you?"

Damn, the guy could be so needy sometimes. Hyungwon rolled his eyes and turned around in the shorter's arms. Then, half-closing his eyes, he leaned down and caught those red lips with his own. At first, Minhyuk didn't respond, but presently, perhaps out of instinct, he reciprocated the kiss, moving slowly against the reaper's mouth.

"...oh," Minhyuk gasped when they broke. The taller boy smiled slyly, reveling in the fact that he had caught the other so off-guard he didn't know what to say. Hyungwon knew that the murderer had probably dreamed of that moment.

"Now." The reaper wriggled his way out of the embrace. "I have a job to do, so if you'll excuse me..."

A soft whine slipped involuntarily out of Minhyuk's mouth, and he scrabbled forward to wrap Hyungwon in a hug again. "No, Wonnie, one more minute...one more kiss? Pleeease?"

Nights where Minhyuk was clingy like this were the grim reaper's bane and joy, all at the same time, it seemed. He clicked his tongue and shook his head at the blond. "Alright. Just let me go for a minute. There's a soul that kinda needs to be taken care of, or else you'll have a ghost on your ass for the rest of your life."

Hyungwon felt the grip on him hesitantly loosen, and he went to where the newest victim lay face-up on the dirt. As usual he waved a hand over the dead guy's face, and the grim reaper felt the spirit join his own, disappearing into him. Then he returned to Minhyuk's embrace.

"Does this mean...that you'd say yes to being mine?" The puppy eyes were on, and like always they could make the most hardened heart soft. "I know you told me there was no way we could be together, but if I asked you to reconsider, would you?"

The serial killer's tone was pleading, almost desperate, and it took Hyungwon aback. He had to pause and consider it. If this was anyone else, he'd probably laugh and insist on no. "I--I still am having trouble hoping. But I do want you."

Minhyuk reached up to kiss him. "All I need is these small moments. Even if I'm a fool to depend on them."

"But what about when we can't see each other anymore?"

"When I know that, will be the moment I can't go on living. I'll give myself a taste of my own medicine, turn my knife on myself..."

"No, no, don't say any more, you'll be lost to me forever," Hyungwon silenced his boyfriend with a thumb to the lips. "Yeah...just--enjoy the time you have. I'll think of something, ok?"

And so Hyungwon and Minhyuk started to work out the problems that came with being from two completely realms--the dead and the living--and how romance worked then. It was a lot of standing together, the human half-snuggled under Hyungwon's trenchcoat, breathing in his scent. The reaper's noodle arms held everything together, and kisses were frequent. Minhyuk didn't mind the lack of heat in his boyfriend's embrace, because the passion was there in place. If he wasn't in love before, he was now.

The grim reaper was at a loss. He pondered every possible way they could be together, but there was nothing. A couple times he prayed for something to be shown to him. Not like anyone would hear, even Lucifer. He was just at his wit's end.

Minhyuk didn't expect the day to come as soon as it did. He knew the times he saw Mr. Cha staring at him were getting more frequent, and the time spent close to him hit stretches of three hours straight or more. Still, one night, when the Boss sent for him at nine-thirty pm, a strange time and not at all like usual, something felt different. Perhaps, more final.

The kingpin always demanded that his men arrive within twenty minutes of the summons. Consequences were harsh if one did not comply, so Minhyuk made extra sure he wasn't wasting even a second. The man standing watch brought him upstairs, to a familiar wooden door. The blond had to draw in a long, slow breath of air before pushing it open. To say he was nervous was a huge understatement. If this was the night he was going to murder Mr. Cha, he better make sure it happened, because he only had one chance. If the boss was any less than shocked and surprised, Minhyuk probably wouldn't live to see the next day.

Almost immediately, an imposing figure came into view, behind a fortress of a wooden desk. The room was dark, except for the moonlight through two picture windows, on either side of the large oak construction. A single lamp also shined. All caution and concern rose to the forefront of Minhyuk's mind, and suddenly his feet wanted to run. Despite his intentions, far away from here was the best place to be now. Still, with a mental effort, he made himself stay still, and then bend at the waist toward his employer.

It might be strange for some to imagine someone like Cha Jaemin to be reading a book about legitimate business, and yet he was. Setting it down and taking off his bifocals, the boss crooked a finger in the blond's direction. "Ah, Minhyuk. Come here." The young man obeyed, dipping his head respectfully as he approached the big hunk of oak. Mr. Cha's gaze, tinged with something that sent a sweep of distaste and anxiety through the younger man, swept him appraisingly. Obviously, there was more than mild curiosity in it. Something glimmered behind the kingpin's eyes. The only little comfort he had was a letter opener on the desk, gleaming and calling his name as it sat by a stack of mail.

"You remind me so much of your mother," he said at last, pushing himself up from the chair to walk around toward Minhyuk's side. The killer was all too aware that he was being caged in against the oak desk. He turned so that he could face his boss head-on.

"You have her cheekbones, complexion...lips..."

By this point, the two of them were pretty much pressed together; Minhyuk leaned back as far as he could, but it was still no use. The older man reached over to swipe one rough thumb across Minhyuk's jaw, before the latter found himself pulled into an unwanted kiss. Of course, this wasn't completely unexpected, but that didn't make it any less repulsive. At least, hopefully, his momentary tense state made things a little more believable. The young man struggled within himself for a moment before allowing himself to melt into the kiss, eyelids drooping closed. If he pretended that the rough nibbling on his bottom lip was Hyungwon, and not his boss, it made things slightly better.

A slap on the ass elicited a gasp from the younger, and he popped his eyes open to see lust in Mr. Cha's dark irises. "You taste like her, too...absolutely perfect."

Their lips reconnected, and a pair of greedy hands pressed their bodies together. The creepy crawlies in Minhyuk's belly only intensified as he felt something stiff poke his thigh. It was in that moment that reality caught up, and it took all he had to not throw up in the jackass's face. This is actually happening...we're about to--

Mr. Cha pushed him back onto the desk. After a solid thirty seconds of fumbling with the younger's belt and pants button, he was able to slip one hand underneath the fabric. The other worked up Minhyuk's dress shirt, undoing the buttons and exposing milky pale chest. The blond did not want his cock stroked, but allowed it. In addition to letting his mind blank, he did everything in his power to keep from moaning and groaning, biting the inside of his lip. Still, how his body showed pleasure was a more automatic thing, so nevertheless he was hardening under his not-father's hand. Minhyuk scrabbled for a grip and stability and tried to claw at the other's chest too. Instead of acting as a signal to back off, as intended, though, it only seemed to make the older man more greedy and impatient. Of course, this was Cha Jaemin, who always got what he wanted and never took no as an answer. Though the mob boss didn't realize it, the younger's desperate gestures, that practically screamed get off me and you sick fuck, were a last chance to save himself.

But, again, much to both Minhyuk's horror and pleasure, he went completely ignored. Mr. Cha was all in. Now, there was only the need for the perfect moment.

"Fuck, do you know how beautiful you are? I guess I should have known, though, you are my legacy, after all." This affirmation, punctuated by ugly, heavy breathing, was followed by a smirk that managed to be lewd and sly and evil all at the same time. "On the desk for me, pretty boy."

The blond obeyed, though every fiber of him screamed not to. They were moving like a freight train, and honestly, if Mr. Cha's life wasn't hanging in the balance, the younger would be jumping out the window right that moment. Rough hands gripped Minhyuk's waist, pulling him ever closer to the edge. The blond didn't need to look down to know that his boss's hard cock was prominent through his slacks. Minhyuk's was straining his own fabrics, too. When his pants and underwear came down and off his legs, the cold air that hit it brought some semblance of much-needed relief. Then the crime boss was unzipping his own fly, and again the younger man couldn't look. He didn't even want to think about it.

Minhyuk was finally able to get the letter opener in a position ideal for the task at hand. Luckily, Mr. Cha was so engrossed in his sick pleasure that he didn't notice. "God, look at your ass...why didn't I make it mine before?" A rough finger, coated in oil, filled him up, and at that point it was impossible to imagine it was Hyungwon anymore.

The digits were a countdown: One, and then a few seconds later, two. The blond's killer instinct shoved down his instinctive pleasure reactions, and left him staring intently, anticipation and adrenaline building.

Three.

The sharp silver blade glinted in the moonlight of the office, and like twenty-one times before, it hit its mark. The force was more brutal, too, since Minhyuk was, physically, very close to the victim. For the first time that evening, a grin grew across his face as Mr. Cha immediately went flaccid, and pulled his fingers out of the younger man.

Normally, at this point Minhyuk would break the 'numb' that came with being stabbed by jigging the knife around in the wound, but he had some things that the boss needed to hear. "That's for my mom," he growled. "Like the other eight were for her, too."

"Y--you," Mr. Cha was finally able to croak, and giving a grunt, the younger boy ripped the letter opener back out of him. "You--'re the,"

He didn't finish, because this time Minhyuk found a second point: slightly left of middle, in the older man's chest. Cha Jaemin choked and spit up blood.

"Yeah, yeah, it's been me this whole time...didn't think I'd do anything, huh? That I would never be a threat? You could just gloat that you created me with that dick of yours, use me like an animal, and then move on with your life? Like you have with so many others? No, I've taken things into my own hands. I'm sick of living under your thumb." Now was the chance to cause him pain. The younger boy clamped a hand around the crime boss's throat, preventing him from making much more than a croak while Minhyuk twisted that motherfucking letter opener with everything he had. He stopped only when he knew the guy was at his pain threshold. "You'll never be my father. My surname's Lee. Go to hell and suck on that cock of a fact."

In addition from not being able to breathe because of Minhyuk's strangely strong hand crushing his windpipe, Mr. Cha was already bleeding from the neck, and struggling with a pierced lung. His terrified expression cemented in time when he choked on blood one last time and the last breath left his body.

That was it, the younger man realized in the moment. The deed was done.

Once again, Minhyuk found his hands covered in blood. He didn't mind, though. Shoving Mr. Cha's body off of him, he let it hit the floor with a thud, and the younger boy shakily got up. Turning, he grabbed a pen from the desktop, and a piece of paper, letting his thoughts and reasons flow out onto the page. He wasn't quite sure why he did, it just was something he needed in the moment. The note was finished quickly, since he had been planning what it would say for as long as he could remember.

Then, afterwards, he summoned up everything he had and headed for a couch by the window on the other side of the room. The momentary burst of strength waned quickly, however, and finally exhaustion crashed in. The mental strain of everything was too much, and he collapsed on the soft cushions, running a hand through his hair, head lolling back. His naked chest heaved up and down, rising and falling in broken time with his panting. The lingering adrenaline, and how he was still painfully hard and exposed to the world, made his face flush red. There was also the feeling of being prepped but un-penetrated, the wet of the oil nearly driving him crazy. Thought after thought after thought sped across his conscience, coming and going before finally he blanked out completely.

One more time, he opened his eyes and glanced over to where Mr. Cha Jaemin laid on the floor, cold and dead. Then he let his weighted lids fall. Everything was over, thank God. The last thing he wanted in life was done and squared away. He had revenge for his mother and father, revenge for himself.

The blond sat there for what seemed like an eternity (much the same as the first time he had killed). Then, there was a sound: the office door opening. Light, familiar footsteps only barely disturbed the calm atmosphere that had settled over everything. Minhyuk thought he heard a second of hesitancy, and a quick, stunned breath. It could have been the ghost of a reaction, though, because in moments clothes rustled as Hyungwon knelt over the mob boss's body. Minhyuk, in his mind's eye, could see that slender hand waving over the dead face, gray mist disappearing into his palm, and suddenly, he was turned on again. Moaning a little, he bucked unconsciously into the air. Never had he wanted a touch more, for someone's fingers around his cock. It made him want to jerk himself off, but something held him back.

More soft footfalls echoed through the silence, coming closer. Fabric chafed again, and something heavy and woolen was laid over the couch; a coat. Slightly warm lips brushed the blond's. Then, so gently that the human might have called it a dream, his undead boyfriend's hand wrapped around his member and started to pump. Minhyuk felt a jolt of pleasure course through him, and dragged his eyes open to the heavenly sight of Hyungwon straddling him, pupils blown and lips trembling with desire.

"Fuck," the grim reaper muttered. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd do anything."

Minhyuk was barely able to smile and shake his head. He had told his boyfriend about the vendetta during the nights they stood close, huddled together over a murder victim. "No..." He felt like he could burn up at any moment, and Hyungwon's grazing touches weren't enough. "Shit, Wonnie, don't tease...I need you..."

The grip on his dick tightened, and lips drifted down the blond's neck, sucking at a bruise Mr. Cha had made. Still, death's voice was snappish and concerned, though it didn't lose its lazy tendency. "You knew this would happen, hmm?" Minhyuk nodded. "Why didn't you mention it? I could have done something. You belong to me."

An unwanted, disbelieving chuckle slipped out of the murderer's mouth. "Can't fool me, Wonnie. You might be here for souls, but you're not the killer of the two of us. That's why I've gotta do it."

"Not quite true." Hyungwon dusted kisses along Minhyuk's jaw, and the latter could feel the smirk on his face. "It's painful in the extreme for the other person, but I can steal a soul prematurely. Once the soul is gone, the body cannot function."

"That's the cruelest thing I've-ah--ever heard."

"Yeah, it's pretty messed-up."

"I would ask if you'd do it to me, but--"

"Shh, shh." Hyungwon went to silence him with his own lips. "Let's not talk about that now. Just relax. God, I really wish I could fuck you into the couch so hard your soul wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow."

"Me, too, but...your hand is almost as good, baby." Minhyuk gave a shudder and gasp when the reaper swiped his thumb over his slit, and immediately afterwards dived into a more passionate kiss. "I wanna touch you, too," he whined, gently dragging his hand over the front of Hyungwon's pants.

"Then touch me."

The blond's fingers were shaky, but he managed to undo the button and slide underneath the layers. It might have been his imagination, but was the vein on the underside of his boyfriend's length throbbing a little?

Hyungwon slowed his strokes on Minhyuk as the pleasure started to register. Having someone touch him like this was better than he remembered--or maybe it was just because this was Lee Minhyuk, the serial killer who could see death, and consequently fell in love with death--and death had fallen in love with him, too.

Something occurred to the tall boy in that moment, something he hadn't thought about until now. "Minhyukkie? What if I told you that--that we could be together forever?"

It was hard to breathe, let alone speak, when they were constantly wasting air in heaving pants. Minhyuk was drawing closer to his end, and Hyungwon felt--stiff--

"You're hard," The former murmured in awe, and the grim reaper's eyes widened.

"What?

"You're literally, erect." Minhyuk said, breath ragged. His cock twitched under his boyfriend's hand. Simultaneously, Hyungwon's did, too, and that was when the taller realized that it was true. He even had precome starting to bead on the tip. I'm dead, I shouldn't be able to-- permeated his mind for a split second, before Minhyuk grabbed his chin, gazed into his glazed eyes, and pleaded, earnestly:

"Wonnie, please, please fuck me."

Who would Hyungwon be if he didn't heed that request? Soon his own clothes were draped over his coat, and he was positioned between Minhyuk's spread legs. The blond was spine-down, laying on the couch, waiting with breathing uneven and so much lust in his eyes. Hyungwon pressed the head of his cock into the already-lubed and prepped ring of muscle, and pushed himself firmly in, coaxing a moan from the human. "Sh--shit. Your ass is to die for, all over again."

The reaper started slow, picking up pace as Minhyuk asked for more. Their moans filled the silence, broken curses and phrases of adoration, until unexplainably, Hyungwon's train of thought from earlier returned. "W--what if I told you that we could be together forever?" Too wound up to reply properly, the blond just listened, knowing he'd probably go on, and he did. "I didn't realize until now, but you can see me...the only ones who are able are children, and...those destined to become re--reapers themselves."

"So you're saying--when I die--"

"You'll be the same as me, and we won't be separated by the burning chasm." Hyungwon dove in for another kiss, and his hand slipped to Minhyuk's cock, slipping up and down it at a critical pace. The human tightened his grip around his boyfriend's neck and moaned loudly as he finally came, spilling across his own belly.

Minhyuk's orgasm sent the reaper over the edge, too, and his cum filled his boyfriend's ass. For a moment, death felt that he was in heaven.

"Together forever," came a shaky voice underneath him. "What are we waiting for?"

☛ E   P   I   L   O   G   U   E

"So...this is it, huh?"

"I-I think so." Hoseok stuttered in reply, picking up a piece of paper from the desk, white sanitary gloves gently touching the corners. "This note seems to be the end-all...he even admits to having murdered twenty-one people for revenge, and love. I have no clue what that means though, or what the context is?"

"Yeah, Damn...we'll probably never know for sure." Hyunwoo whistled and glanced at the scene in front of him. After so much sleuthing together, time in the lab, and finding a bloody handprint on the wall of the alley where the first two murders had taken place, the two of them had finally felt comfortable enough to come to the Boss and present their findings. However, it wasn't to be, because instead, they had opened the door on a fresh, brutal scene. Two men had met their end, one was Mr. Cha and by familiar knife wound, and the other, their prime suspect, Lee Minhyuk, apparently of natural causes. They were both naked from the waist down, the former facedown on the floor. The detective had seen some pretty strange things in his lifetime, but this was at another level.

"Oh my God." Wonho sucked in a breath, and Hyunwoo snapped his head around just in time to watch his eyes widen. "Fucking-listen to this:

'Mr. Cha Jaemin will never hurt anyone again. I am glad. Such scum does not deserve to walk the Earth, let alone hold power over people. He claims me as his son, and I might very well be, as he violated my mother and I was born nine months afterwards. I found myself at his mercy again tonight, and though my current state might be conflicting, I would never allow the same thing that made me, in me...'

"um,

'good thing I have my sweet love Death to help me through. He should be here any minute, and everything will be alright.'

"This is crazy. I mean it's always been obvious that the Boss was off the deep end. But Minhyuk, I did not expect this at all..." the younger man swallowed, pink tinting his cheeks. "I guess I should have told you this before, but I knew him...just a little. Mutual acquaintances-you know."

"That's okay. You didn't need to say anything. It wasn't important to the case. Actually, I'm proud of you for not letting yourself drag emotion in. We had conclusive physical evidence that he was the murderer, and now it's all confirmed."

"Yeah...I guess. He was actually a pretty nice guy, family had been in the Mafia for years, so when he tried to disassociate himself he got sucked right back in again. His smile could light up a room. Cared for his friends, too...Yujin called him Uncle Min'ook."

"Jooheon and Changkyun's daughter?"

"Right." Glancing over at Minhyuk's body (now partway covered by a white sheet), Hoseok sighed and frowned. "Well, I'm not going to question it. What's over is over. I really don't think there's much more to solve, here...our lives go on as normal."

There was something final and sad in his words, an undertone that Hyunwoo understood. In that moment, he knew he needed to do something. The older, taller boy's eyebrows knitted together, and in seconds he had crossed the room, enveloping Wonho in a backhug. "Hoseok...I thought that my actions were clear, but maybe not. Just because the case is over...I don't want this--" he gestured between the two of them, "to end. I'm not letting you walk away, like nothing. I've really come to depend on you, and...I think...I might be, falling in love with you." Hyunwoo bit his tongue, knowing he'd taken a risk, and this could go either way.

Wonho tipped his head back to rest on the detective's strong shoulder, and their fingers laced together. "Yeah, me neither," he confessed quietly. "I wanna keep seeing you...being with you."

"Then be my boyfriend," Hyunwoo begged. "There's nothing I'd love more."

A wide, white smile spread across the mobster's face. "Of course. Gladly." Wonho turned around and pulled the detective down to him for a shy kiss. When they broke, the younger melted at the little crinkly eyesmile he was met with.

But then Hyunwoo's face fell. He sucked in a big breath and murmured, "Oh."

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"Your boss is dead. So, doesn't that technically make you unemployed?"

"Well-yeah." Hoseok lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "But that's not a big deal, I can just find another job now."

"You don't have to, if you come work with me. You can be my personal assistant, like John Watson to Sherlock Holmes--and we can fuck on lab tables whenever you want--"

"Shut up, you're so cheesy, hyung." Their lips met again, and the younger chuckled, blushing a little. It had happened a few times while they were working in there alone, late at night, and Hoseok would easily admit that it was some of the most spectacular sex he'd ever had. "As long as you wear that sinful white coat. Without a shirt on underneath? God, I'm getting hard just thinking about that."

"I think that can be arranged.”

[cryptimist]

Ripple Escrows 55 Billion XRP for Supply Predictability

Image: Shutterstock

Earlier this year, we committed to placing 55 billion XRP in a cryptographically-secured escrow account to create certainty of XRP supply at any given time. As promised, today we completed the lockup.

By securing the lion’s share of XRP in escrow, people can now mathematically verify the maximum supply that can enter the market. While Ripple has proved to be a responsible steward of XRP supply for almost five years – and has clearly demonstrated a tremendous track record of investing in and supporting the XRP ecosystem – this lockup eliminates any concern that Ripple could flood the market, which we’ve pointed out before is a scenario that would be bad for Ripple!

This move underscores Ripple’s commitment to building XRP liquidity and a healthy and trusted market. Long term, the value of digital assets will be determined by their utility. XRP has emerged as the only digital asset with a clear institutional use case designed to solve a multi-trillion dollar problem – the global payment and liquidity challenges that banks, payment providers and corporates face.

Unlike other digital assets purely driven by unexplained speculation, real institutional customers are already using and finding value in XRP, and governments, regulators and central banks are increasingly recognizing the role it could play in the global system.

XRP goes beyond what Bitcoin does well — a store of value — and delivers transaction speed and throughput that is orders of magnitude faster than BTC or ETH. While other digital assets continue to bump against their transaction limits, XRP remains the fastest, most efficient and most scalable digital asset in the world – making it the best digital asset for payments. It’s no surprise that institutions are looking to XRP to provide much-needed on-demand liquidity for cross-border payments.

Here’s how the escrow works:

The Escrow feature in the XRP Ledger allows parties to secure XRP for an allotted amount of time or until specific conditions are met. For example, Escrow allows a sender of XRP to put conditions on exactly when a payment can be completed, so the payment remains cryptographically locked until the due date.

We use Escrow to establish 55 contracts of 1 billion XRP each that will expire on the first day of every month from months 0 to 54. As each contract expires, the XRP will become available for Ripple’s use. You can expect us to continue to use XRP for incentives to market makers who offer tighter spreads for payments and selling XRP to institutional purchasers We’ll then return whatever is unused at the end of each month to the back of the escrow rotation. For example, if 500M XRP remain unspent at the end of the first month, those 500M XRP will be placed into a new escrow account set to expire in month 55. For comparison, Ripple has sold on average 300M XRP per month for the past 18 months.

Ripple’s vision remains the same – to enable the Internet of Value in which money moves like information moves today – and XRP is at the heart.

To learn more, please visit .

The post Ripple Escrows 55 Billion XRP for Supply Predictability appeared first on Ripple.

[moldtestingservicesseattle-blog1]

The Importance and Purpose of Mold Remediation

The most common signs of exposure to mold growth are red, irritated skin; unexplained internal pain; coughing; sneezing; wheezing and other flu-like symptoms. If you or any member of your family is experiencing any of these symptoms, you should seek immediate medical attention. This person can then complete a full physical and run the proper tests to determine if you have been exposed to mold. The admin of kipaduka has given information on General Information On Mold And The Health Effects Of Spores.

Some not so harmful or even helpful fungi include, yeast that causes bread to rise, and still other yeasts that has helped man make beer since the time of the ancient Egyptians. Fungi living intertwined in the roots of plants enabling them to take in nutrients. Other fungi include edible mushrooms, and of course wood decay fungi that are one of the only organisms that can break down and recycle dead trees in our forests. Kipaduka

Mold tends to develop from damp, wet moisture from a leaky roof, leaky pipe, flood, or areas with high humidity. Mold spores grow under specific damp or wet conditions. Moisture and a reliable food source are the key factors of mold growth. Since mold spores are airborne, when mold spores land on a damp or wet spot, they begin to multiply and grow at a rapid speed in the first 24 to 48 hours. On the above article, The admin of kipaduka gave provide on General Information On Mold And The Health Effects Of Spores. New homeowners have a variety of concerns to consider. Many of those concerns, for example, "Where will the children attend school?" deal with issues outside of the physical structure of the house. There are some concerns that actually deal with the new home that has just been purchased. The air quality inside a new home can be a concern. Zaba has said about Mold Inside Walls: What You Need to Know.

If you can smell it, it’s there behind the walls. That unmistakable musty odor that makes your nose curl is a sure sign that you’re dealing with a growing mold problem. Do your sinuses stop up when you spend time in one room? Do your eyes start itching? Those physical symptoms are often reactions to hidden mold growth. Service masterbyzaba

Check this site to know more about mold testing company in Seattle WA . There are some things a person can seek when looking for a new home. To help avoid the concern of possible mold growth you can purchase an insulated concrete form house. If the ICFs used to build a home are properly installed, it will keep a home drier compared to traditional building methods. This is because a builder can tightly join the forms together, and the forms themselves are usually manufactured to resist moisture. Coughing, wheezing, and runny nose? Is it time to go buy a bottle of Benadryl for those pesky allergy symptoms, or could these be indicators of a much more severe problem? Symptoms of mold exposure can appear as nothing more than simple, every day, allergy symptoms, but the long-term effects could be much more severe and in some cases even life-threatening. Vanguard Cleaning Systems told us about Cleaning Services and Mold Removal & Prevention.

Mold spores permeate the environment around us but pose little hazard to non-sensitive groups until they encounter the necessary levels of moisture, and begin to grow. Once mold growth takes hold, it can cause a wide variety of issues, including foul odors, structural damage to buildings, as well as several documented and hypothesized health problems. Vanguardsv

Watch this video for more information about Mold Growth Cycle:

[occultspirits-blog]

Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, still unexplained...

Hi all and welcome to Spirit's blog. Today was Thursday, I normally would do a throwback to a person, but today we are going to discuss the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. These include: the Great Pyramid of Giza, The Colossus of Rhodes , The Light house of Alexandria, the Mausoleum, the Temple of Artemis, The Statue of Zeus and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

The Great Pyramid of Giza is the oldest and largest of the 3 pyramids in the Giza complex. From markings inside the Great Pyramid there is proof it was created around 2560 B.C. Egyptologists believe that the pyramid was built as a tomb for the Egyptian pharaoh Khufu. The pyramid was built by tens of thousands of skilled workers, that were placed into castes depending upon their skill. Scientists believe that the entire pyramid was built in 14 years. They are still unsure how it was built with the primitive tools they had. The rocks were either pushed, pulled or dragged from a nearby quarry.

The Colossus of Rhodes was a statue of the Greek God Helios (the Sun God). It was constructed roughly 280 B.C. It was built to commemorate Rhodes' victory over the King of Cyprus. This statue measured 108 feet high, it was the tallest statue of the Ancient world. It collapsed during an earthquake in 226 B.C., even though parts of it were preserved it was never rebuilt. This statue stood for 54 years before the earthquake, destroyed it. At that time Ptolemy III offered to pay to rebuild it, but was denied his assistance, due to belief that Rhodes had somehow angered the Helios.In 1653 Muslims lead by Muawiyah captured Rhodes, and had the remains of the once great statue melted to bronze. Archaeologists are still in debate over the exact location of the Colossus.

The Lighthouse of Alexandria was a lighthouse built by the Ptolemaic Kingdom, during the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphus. It is believed that at it's original height is was 330 ft. tall. The lighthouse was severely damaged by earthquakes from 956 A.D. to 1323 A.D. The lighthouse by this point was in ruins. The Lighthouse was said to be made of limestone and a furnace at the top for the light. The purpose of the Lighthouse was because people of the island of Pharos were considered wreckers ( they would steal from any boat near shore). Therefore the lighthouse was built to guide ships into port at night.

The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus was a tomb built for Mausolus and his wife. Mausolus was a satrap (ancient governor). The Mausoleum was approximately 148 feet tall. The Mausoleum was destroyed by earthquakes from the 12th to the 15th century. Due to it's structural quality, it coined the term Mausoleum to mean a magnificent tomb, and all Greek or Roman tombs built since then were called Mausoleums.

The Temple of Artemis, was a local temple to idolize the human form of the Goddess Artemis, the Goddess of the hunt, the wilderness, wild animals, the Moon and chastity. It was located in Ephesus ( now Turkey), It was damaged by a flood and 300 years later by arson. Therefore it was rebuilt twice. By 401 A.D. it was completely destroyed with only small pieces left. The temple was closed by the Christians in the early to mid 5th century. After it's closing it is unknown how long the temple stayed in tact. Other architects began using stones an columns for other architecture. Today a single column stands at the original site of this temple, near the province of Selcuk, Turkey.

The Statue of Zeus was a 43 ft tall sitting figure of the God Zeus. It was built around 435 B.C. at the sanctuary of Olympia. The statue was lost or destroyed in roughly the 5th century AD. This statue was built in the 5th century BC and was commissioned to rival the Athenian's architecture. The Roman Emperor Caligula ordered that statues like that of Zeus be brought to him so the heads could be cut off and his put in their place.Caligula was assassinated in 41 AD, before any statues were moved or destroyed. In 391 AD the Roman Emperor Theodosius, banned participating in pagan cults and closed all the temples. There is theories of what occurred to the statue but the only one that is relatively plausible is the fire that broke out in the temple 425 AD.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon was an architectural gem, with the many tiers of hanging flowers, trees and shrubs.It was claimed to be built inside the city walls of Babylon (modern day Iraq ). Legend has it that the gardens were built by Nebuchadnezzar II for his wife queen Amytis, because she missed the green gardens and hills of her homeland. The location of this garden is still unknown. To this day no archaeological evidence has been found in Babylon of this garden. There is a theory that it may lie beneath the Euphrates, but excavation is impossible at this time. Another theory is that the Hanging Gardens were actually built in Nineveh (outskirts of Mosul Iraq), and that the Assyrian King Sennacherib built it inside his palace.

To wrap this up, The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, are still wonders. There is either no information salvaged about them, or they were destroyed beyond repair, or maybe in the case of the gardens were never there in the first place. The Ancient world has many tales and stories that to this day we cannot explain. Thank you for joining us in taking a quick look at the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Blessed be.

[supertrendingnewsarticles]

There is little reason to assume ‘Joementum’ will die off soon – but gaffes have killed his earlier runs and could still kill this one tooSuper Tuesday was a powerful reminder that Twitter is not the real world. Of course, we knew this, or could have known this. Pew Research had shown several times that Democrats on Twitter are more liberal than Democrats overall, and that Twitter Democrats are less supportive of Joe Biden and more supportive of Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren. But pushed by some early wins, and the overwhelming presence of a loud minority on social media, the Sanders train took off in the traditional media too, bringing excitement and panic to liberal and moderate journalists and pundits alike.It was not to be. Not Sanders but Biden was the big winner of Super Tuesday. Winning 10 of the 14 states in play, he only left Sanders the big prize of the delegate-richest state of California, and even there he ate into the Vermont senator’s delegate count, in part helped by Mike Bloomberg and Elizabeth Warren, who both polled above 10% but below the 15% viability threshold.Now that Bloomberg has dropped out, the pressure on Warren to follow suit will be huge. Bloomberg only entered the race to stop the progressive agenda of Sanders and Warren and, after spending a perverse half a billion of dollars on his campaign, only had American Samoa to show for. He is expected to save face by putting his money and support behind Biden, which could be the push he needs to transform a plurality into a majority at, or before, the Democratic national convention in Milwaukee.This puts even more pressure on Warren, whose campaign never bounced back from its – still largely unexplained – November slump. Despite excellent debate performances, she had a dismal Super Tuesday, being viable in only a couple of states, and even coming in third in her own home state of Massachusetts. She wasn’t able to pick up any “wonk votes” from Pete Buttigieg or “female votes” from Amy Klobuchar, who both suspended their campaigns days before Super Tuesday.Hence, it is time to bow out for Warren, and let Sanders defend the progressive camp against the now consolidated moderate camp of Biden. She can do so with her head up high, as at the very least her debate performances have helped to stop Bloomberg and led to the resignation of Chris Matthews, a long-term embarrassment for liberal media.> The most remarkable aspect of Super Tuesday is that Biden won in states that he had spent little money in and had few campaign staffThe most remarkable aspect of Super Tuesday is that Biden won in states that he had spent little money in and had few campaign staff. Against the millions of dollars of Bloomberg, and the tens of thousands of volunteers of Sanders, Biden seem to have won the good old-fashioned way, through endorsements.South Carolina’s iconic congressman Jim Clyburn’s endorsement, which started the “Joementum”, led to Biden’s massive win in South Carolina, followed by withdrawals from his moderate rivals, as well as the impeccably rolled-out endorsements of Buttigieg, Klobuchar and Beto O’Rourke just before Super Tuesday. The fact that an endorsement and win in South Carolina, a state that will solidly support Trump in November, could have fundamentally changed the outcome of the Democratic primaries is yet another example of the complete irrationality of the primary process.Given that money and people will be flooding into the Biden campaign into the coming days and weeks, there is little reason to assume Joementum will die off soon. Moreover, while a significant number of moderate early votes had still been cast for Buttigieg and Klobuchar on Super Tuesday, this will no longer be the case in the upcoming primaries. Many of the next primaries are in moderate states, such as Mississippi and Missouri, which should be Biden territory.Where does this leave Sanders? To be clear, the Sanders camp is still very much alive. The problem is, his campaign seems to have hit its ceiling. Sanders has a solid support of roughly one-quarter of Democrats and has been able to expand that to about one-third. Even if he would be able to capture the full Warren support – which is doubtful given growing tensions between the campaigns and their supporters – it would not be close to 50%.The next big test for both Biden and Sanders is Michigan, the type of swing state that both candidates have staked their claim of defeating Trump in November on. Will “Uncle Joe from Scranton” be able to dig into Sanders’ support among the white working class, while also carrying the moderate suburban vote? Or will Sanders finally prove that he is the (only) candidate to win both new voters and some of Trump’s white working class?At the moment, everything seems to point at, at least, a Biden plurality. But his campaign will always have one lethal weak spot: Joe Biden. Gaffes have killed his earlier runs and could still kill this one too. It might be Sanders’ best, and only chance at winning the nomination. Because the way Joementum is going, Sanders might regret his recent statements that the candidate with a plurality should become the nominee at the Democratic national convention.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/3cAE5K8

[orendrasingh]

There is little reason to assume ‘Joementum’ will die off soon – but gaffes have killed his earlier runs and could still kill this one tooSuper Tuesday was a powerful reminder that Twitter is not the real world. Of course, we knew this, or could have known this. Pew Research had shown several times that Democrats on Twitter are more liberal than Democrats overall, and that Twitter Democrats are less supportive of Joe Biden and more supportive of Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren. But pushed by some early wins, and the overwhelming presence of a loud minority on social media, the Sanders train took off in the traditional media too, bringing excitement and panic to liberal and moderate journalists and pundits alike.It was not to be. Not Sanders but Biden was the big winner of Super Tuesday. Winning 10 of the 14 states in play, he only left Sanders the big prize of the delegate-richest state of California, and even there he ate into the Vermont senator’s delegate count, in part helped by Mike Bloomberg and Elizabeth Warren, who both polled above 10% but below the 15% viability threshold.Now that Bloomberg has dropped out, the pressure on Warren to follow suit will be huge. Bloomberg only entered the race to stop the progressive agenda of Sanders and Warren and, after spending a perverse half a billion of dollars on his campaign, only had American Samoa to show for. He is expected to save face by putting his money and support behind Biden, which could be the push he needs to transform a plurality into a majority at, or before, the Democratic national convention in Milwaukee.This puts even more pressure on Warren, whose campaign never bounced back from its – still largely unexplained – November slump. Despite excellent debate performances, she had a dismal Super Tuesday, being viable in only a couple of states, and even coming in third in her own home state of Massachusetts. She wasn’t able to pick up any “wonk votes” from Pete Buttigieg or “female votes” from Amy Klobuchar, who both suspended their campaigns days before Super Tuesday.Hence, it is time to bow out for Warren, and let Sanders defend the progressive camp against the now consolidated moderate camp of Biden. She can do so with her head up high, as at the very least her debate performances have helped to stop Bloomberg and led to the resignation of Chris Matthews, a long-term embarrassment for liberal media.> The most remarkable aspect of Super Tuesday is that Biden won in states that he had spent little money in and had few campaign staffThe most remarkable aspect of Super Tuesday is that Biden won in states that he had spent little money in and had few campaign staff. Against the millions of dollars of Bloomberg, and the tens of thousands of volunteers of Sanders, Biden seem to have won the good old-fashioned way, through endorsements.South Carolina’s iconic congressman Jim Clyburn’s endorsement, which started the “Joementum”, led to Biden’s massive win in South Carolina, followed by withdrawals from his moderate rivals, as well as the impeccably rolled-out endorsements of Buttigieg, Klobuchar and Beto O’Rourke just before Super Tuesday. The fact that an endorsement and win in South Carolina, a state that will solidly support Trump in November, could have fundamentally changed the outcome of the Democratic primaries is yet another example of the complete irrationality of the primary process.Given that money and people will be flooding into the Biden campaign into the coming days and weeks, there is little reason to assume Joementum will die off soon. Moreover, while a significant number of moderate early votes had still been cast for Buttigieg and Klobuchar on Super Tuesday, this will no longer be the case in the upcoming primaries. Many of the next primaries are in moderate states, such as Mississippi and Missouri, which should be Biden territory.Where does this leave Sanders? To be clear, the Sanders camp is still very much alive. The problem is, his campaign seems to have hit its ceiling. Sanders has a solid support of roughly one-quarter of Democrats and has been able to expand that to about one-third. Even if he would be able to capture the full Warren support – which is doubtful given growing tensions between the campaigns and their supporters – it would not be close to 50%.The next big test for both Biden and Sanders is Michigan, the type of swing state that both candidates have staked their claim of defeating Trump in November on. Will “Uncle Joe from Scranton” be able to dig into Sanders’ support among the white working class, while also carrying the moderate suburban vote? Or will Sanders finally prove that he is the (only) candidate to win both new voters and some of Trump’s white working class?At the moment, everything seems to point at, at least, a Biden plurality. But his campaign will always have one lethal weak spot: Joe Biden. Gaffes have killed his earlier runs and could still kill this one too. It might be Sanders’ best, and only chance at winning the nomination. Because the way Joementum is going, Sanders might regret his recent statements that the candidate with a plurality should become the nominee at the Democratic national convention.

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Which Are The Best IVF Centers in Jaipur | OVO Health

IVF has made some amazing progress from the days when it was first proclaimed as a clinical supernatural occurrence. The first IVF infant was conceived in 1978. Since at that point, according to the European Society of Human Reproduction and Embryology, an aggregate of 5 million such births have purchased satisfaction to guardians over the globe. Lamentably, this has likewise made a situation where numerous couples go to this methodology without understanding its suggestions. Little, unaided clinics go after this absence of information, and non-authority doctors sell themselves as "fruitfulness specialists". An IVF technique without appropriate adherence to the standards makes grave dangers for the mother and the kid. So how about we endeavor to demystify this clinical wonder and comprehend its fundamental concepts.CK Birla International Fertility Center, Jain Fertility and Mother Care Hospital, Apex International Fertility Centers, Morpheus Mangalam International IVF Center are the Best IVF Centers in Jaipur with high achievement rates. The rundown of best IVF centers in Jaipur depends on its patients' input, IVF cost, and area.

IVF is the most well-known sort of helped regenerative innovation (ART), which basically helps ladies with infertility issues become pregnant.Normally, a sperm treats a lady's egg while it's still inside her body—that prepared egg at that point joins to her uterine lining and develops for nine months until, well, you know the rest.With IVF, sperm from your accomplice or a benefactor is coordinated with your egg or a giver egg to make an undeveloped organism in a lab. That undeveloped organism is then embedded in your belly, where it ideally brings about a fruitful pregnancy. For some couples or individuals in vitro treatment (IVF) offers the best possibility of achieving a pregnancy. IVF treatment might be prescribed in a scope of conditions affecting fruitfulness, including sperm variations from the norm, endometriosis, tubal harm, ineffective ovulation induction and unexplained infertility. IVF may likewise be a possibility for single ladies and same-sex couples who decide to utilize contributor sperm to have a baby.The top rundown IVF doctors in Jaipur include Dr. Renu Sharma, Dr. Alka Gahlot, Dr. Renu Jain, and Dr. M L Swarankar. The rundown of the Best IVF treatment doctors in Jaipur is determined dependent on their clinical abilities, criticism of patients, IVF achievement rate, richness focus infrastructure and offices, and IVF cost in Jaipur.If the sperm profile is poor the procedure of preparation is completed by intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI), where a single sperm is injected into each egg. Preparation at that point happens over various hours in a culture dish maintained under perfect conditions in the laboratory.Patient treatment has improved because of both logical and clinical research. Enhancements have been made in all the phases of treatment, commencing from the initial phase of induction of ovulation to the final advance of move. For the induction of ovulation the utilization of GnRH analogs is currently broadly by and by to synchronize follicular advancement avoiding a bright LH flood from leading follicles . As a potential option in contrast to the requirement for induction of superovulation the chance presently exists to recoup juvenile oocytes from unstimulated ovaries. Cha et al. effectively developed youthful oocytes in vitro, treated them and afterward moved the cut undeveloped organisms leading to a feasible pregnancy. Moreover, in the field of hormonal treatment, there is currently a treatment alternative accessible to gonadal ladies, or ladies suffering from ovarian dysgenesis or untimely menopause. In these ladies, who get oocytes or incipient organisms, a successive hormone substitution treatment can emulate the ordinary menstrual cycle followed by further hormonal help during the initial two months of pregnancy .

IVF innovation has widened to offer a more noteworthy number of treatment choices for patients, right off the bat, in the territory of infertility and furthermore, in regions, for example, the recognizable proof of hereditary malady. Methods, for example, oocyte gift permit ladies the chance of increasing their conceptive lifetime past that of menopause, while in vitro development of oocytes could prompt an increase in the quantity of undeveloped organisms a patient can deliver without risking hyperstimulation. Furthermore, the control of oocytes may perhaps permit the sexing of undeveloped organisms for other than hereditary examination and the inevitable chance of quality treatment. The headways in human IVF innovation increases the choices for treatment of infertile patients and those with inherited serious hereditary sickness. Be that as it may, these advancements will likewise test good and moral mentalities within the community.IVF Treatment Cost in Jaipur relies upon a few variables including the experience of the fruitfulness specialist, intricacy of the couple's case just as usage of gave sperms, eggs or undeveloped organisms. The necessity of extra treatments, for example, ICSI treatment and Assisted hatching method alongside IVF likewise increases the cost.Typically, in vitro preparation is a natural procedure that has been made to happen in a research center vessel, test tube or other in a controlled trial setting. In straightforward terms, in vitro preparation is a ripeness treatment where sperm and eggs are combined in a research facility to frame undeveloped organisms, and put in the uterus through the cervix to empower origination of an IVF child. These days, IVF treatment is viewed as the most generally utilized ripeness treatment, accounting for in excess of 99 percent of helped regenerative innovation systems.

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