#as a kid this myth drove me insane

[peartheshame]

i often think about that split second where orpheus has turned around, the wash of relief, love, joy, love, love, love that he feels when he sees eurydice. there is darkness and doubt all around him, the ache of his feet, the feeling of defeat, and in his desperation borne of love he sees her. and for a split second, love takes over. the last thing eurydice sees is love etched into every corner of her husbands face before she is dragged back into death.

#yes i did just finish listening to #hadestown #but also #as a kid this myth drove me insane #he could’ve waited #but now i get it #he gifted her hope to last her eternity

[yamis-ramblings]

I would like to share my pokemon headcanons with you, tumblr. And I would like to do so for the Sinnoh characters with the order of who I have thought about the most over the last 13-14 years.

Let's start then, ans you'll see exactly how much this generation has haunted me since then instantly.

Cyrus (yup, that's how we're starting. This one isn't actually a headcanon, it's a full on theory I've had for YEARS, but it's slowly been and is being validated by pokemon itself. But here's the incredibly butchered summary version):

--- Cyrus' childhood wasn't easy. He was different from the other kids, likely neurodivergent imo.

--- his parents were neglectful, and he found comfort in space, robots, and tech, all info we get from his grandpa

--- Cyrus dealt with physical and emotional abuse, but eventually something would bring a light. He'd eventually meet a rotom, and they'd become fast friends.

---- Cyrus would later record the events with the rotom in an old journal you can find in the "rotom room" in platinum via an event exclusive key. This journal, Charon's notes, and the Rotom notes are all here. The journal is incredibly similar to Cyrus' way of speaking, and helps prove that he DOES have emotions, he simply surpresses them- likely out of truama. The journal states the writer and the rotom will be friends throughout their lives, but...

--- Something would happen between Cyrus and the rotom, and while I couldn't tell you what, it likely at least partially helped lead to how he became. Of course, his childhood definitely was a major factor, but I can't imagine all the poor man went through to get to where he is.

--- actually, I can. I relate. Scarily. Not these days, but, maybe that's why I can humanize him more than others.

Anyways. Enough rambling about my beloved depressed caffine addict. Let's get into what people really want. The fun stuff.

Riley:

--- Lucario and him have been together since they were children, as is tradition with Aura Guardians.

--- Riley is much better with aura than he wants you to believe, and he's not the last of his kind or anything like people used to theorize. He's no master, but he and his Lucario could do some insane stuff with aura alone.

---- Riley lost his first match against Cynthia because he was too busy crushing on her.

--- He's not Sir Aaron's descendant, infact Sir Aaron was never real. Rather, Sir Aaron is to Guardians what King Arthur is to us westerners. He' a legendary figure that their culture idolizes, but in Aaron's case he's not... genuienly a bad person sometimes.

--- As a child, Riley was Aaron's BIGGEST fan. He knew about all the legends, he could recite poems, myths, anything on the spot. It drove some guardians his age mad, but the elders found it endearing. His master, however, found it very notable.

--- And she should have, because Aaron's legends would inspire Riley as a guardian. He had an outfit custom made after his hero's, and his goal was to be as heroic as Sir Aaron, to inspire others and to protect those who couldn't fend for themselves. To be the embidiment of an aura guardian, and to do so proudly.

--- On the other hand when he first met Cheryl and the two had their first battle, he nearly lost because he was crushing hard. Before or after Cynthia, idk, but he's just a giant sofite. Little does he know this goes both ways sometimes...

---- Met Volkner and Flint a few years before his journey, and the three became fast friends. Their group chats are basically filled with Flint and Volkner being morons together while Riley laughs. First thing he did when arriving in Sinnoh was head to Sunnyshore to surprise them, before they flew him back to Oreburgh where he met Roark and Byron.

Cynthia:

---- Barely cleans her room because she's too hyperfixated on battles, mythology, and trying to figure out how to see Giritina again cause that shit was cool.

--- Because of this, Darach is always getting on her case but is barely ever heard. She drives him insane, yet Caitlin finds it endearing.

--- Drinks so much coffee in the morning that both Buck and Flint are convinced she's a zombie.

---- She's gone so often that functionally, Lucian is the champion when it comes to running everything. He doesn't mind too much, it lets him have *something* to do considering most challengers don't even make it to him league-wise, and outside of the league he's read eveything at the Canalave library like five times.

---- Officially meets Riley through Volkner and Flint, and they actually become good friends via a shared interest in history and legends. She then met Cheryl later via Dawn and Lukas, and they also become fast friends.

---- Actually an airhead and a dork, but you'd never know it.

---- Lost to Riley because he was "unfairly cute"

--- Cheryl got a "her hair is distractingly soft looking!"

Cheryl:

--- Poor girl prpbably asked 5 other travellers before Dawn/Lukas agreed to travel with her. She probably wasn't too confident in her new travelling companion at first, but she'd seen Mira absolutely demolish everything in the forest earlier so she knew better than to judge trainers by their age.

---- Gets asked if she's a grass specialist a lot. Gardenia asked it too, which made Cheryl question if she should change her style. She tried a more pink and pastel style for a day but felt horribly uncomfortable in anything but a cozy green and decided that dressing the same as a chosen type or pokemon is a worn out trope and she shouldn't have to conform with people's views. Gardenia just. Nodded along.

--- During her first battle with Riley, she lost because she was crushing hard.

---- lost to Cynthia because the same reason. These morons can'y help that they're bi as fuck.

---- Grew up with her Blissey, and knows how to treat most wounds. She's helped a lot of people on her travels, and talk about the "forest nurse" gets around.

---- she's not actually scared of ghosts, as shown by her Driftblim. She's more so scared of the dark and what could be lurking in it. Eterna forest is a rather dark and gloomy place, and the old chateau doesn't help. Her mind races when she's in places like this, and it gets the better of Cheryl.

Volkner:

--- Frontman for an indie punk band.

---- Can be quite cheery and upbeat, but gets bored and depressed easily. He wasn't bragging when he said he'd not had any fun, challenging battles in a long time; Volkner is infamous for being as strong as the E4 themselves. He could have easily had a spot, but turned it down in favour of the ability to continue working on Sunnyshore's tech.

---- He hates how Jubilife calls itself the most modern city in Sinnoh. He believes most of what Jubilife has is simply commercialized fluff. He's proud of Synnyshore, and it's completely justified. He's put in the work to make it such a great city.

--- but what truly annoys him is how despite Jubilife's claims, Sunnyshore is more advanced. He often will scoff when someone tells him how great Jubilife's tech is, and just state how Jubilife is simply contibuting to a worsening enviromental problem. Something he and Sunnyshore are actually striving to fix.

--- Despite his tone when this happens, most people will agree with him. You don't tell the guy who's brought a city into a new era, that his city is behind the times.

--- Volkner also likes to help local businesses over chains. He'll order out from small resteraunts, shop locally, etc.,

--- He is also a major nerd, btw.

Flint:

--- Flint is the drummer for the same indie punk band Volkner sings for.

---- Flint is a bit of a goofball, but he's pretty damn wise.

--- When Volkner's having a down day, it's often Flint that'll say something that manages to cheer him up.

--- Flint is also a big food guy. He's the other reason Volkner buys from local resteraunts, because he can't stand most chain food. But good local food, made from the heart? Flint loves it. Its so diverse, so unique, and he'll often go off on tangents about what makes up the food.

--- He also is an excellent cook himself. He dreams of opening a resteraunt of his own when he retires, and he swears he'll make the best food Sinnoh has ever seen.

Fantina:

---- Fantina didn't just move to Sinnoh for the contests originally. She was absolutely fascinated with the culture, architecture, history, and just everything.

--- While she may seem to scream "Kalosian", Fantinia actually has a collection of casual outfits that are very much sinnovian, and she has various sinnovian dresses and the like. She simply knows what people like from her as a leader and as a contest star, and that's her unique, fabulous way.

--- Fantina is also a medium, but this is little known. On top of that, she's a math prodigy but she never had the heart or passion for math. Her parents had sonewhat hoped she'd be a physicist, but they supported her on her career choice all the same.

---- Fantina may seem like the type to love to eat out fancy, and while she certainly enjoys it... she can't ignore the siren call of a simple fast food meal.

--- She also has a giant plushy collection, just so you know.

Barry:

--- This child has ADHD and you cannot change my mind.

---- Barry had an inferiority complex for a long time. Its why he'd go to any length to be stronger than Lucas and Dawn, it's why he wanted to get the journey started so quick, why he wanted to take Galactic on and for Rowan to shut up. He's lived in his father's shadow for so long, a shadow that was never even visible, let alone reachable.

--- His father wasn't exactly estranged. He was just... busy. He would come home as often as he could, but it was still hard for Barry. In truth, his goal of becoming stronger than his father wasn't to escape his shadow. It was to prove a point. It eas gettinf back at him.

--- Barry cried when he won against his father for the first time. Everything he felt for so long was just... released. He was in his later teens to mid 20's at this point, and had been training for so long. He and his dad had a moment together, and Barry finally began to move forward; while Palmer vowed to be there properly for him. After all, it was Barry's battle tower now.

--- the first time Barry's emotions spilled out like this was when Jupiter beat him. It's why he rushed off and was absent for so long. He had to deal with a lot. It was during this time that Wake properly took him in as student. Barry had asked one last time, and seeing him so distraught and knowing the effect his old friend had on the kid... he couldn't help it. Barry ended up venting to Wake, and the two went on to train as hard as possible before they heard about spear pillar, and Barry rushed to the side of his best friends.

---- Chose Chimchar as his starter.

Dawn:

--- Between her and Lucas, she's the menace. But not in an unhinged chaotic way, more in a subtle, calculated way. She's the type to absolutsly destroy a battlefield in a fight JUST to look cool. However she's also very polite and kind.

---- She's a poffin baking expert, but not so good at growing the berries. She gets Lucas's help for that.

---- Cynthia offered her the title of champion, but she turned it down. Howeved Cynthia clarified; she'd be Champion in title.only, as Cynthia couldn't just hand off an entire functioning region/league to a child. Dawn thought it over, and agreed. Litte did she know that as she got older she'd be helping wjth the legal stuff anyways.

--- Sassy, but in a fun way.

---- Chose Piplup as her starter.

Lucas:

--- The brains of the trio, and the strategist. However he also had a habit of overthinking everything. During the Galactic event he broke that, and showed how frightening his tactics can be.

--- The others.joke about him retiring as a kid due to how he's decided to live a laid back life. He's actually quite often helping professor Rowan with his research. Otherwise he's likely tending to his berry garden, or just vibing with his pokemon.

--- Chose Turtwig as a starter.

Rowan:

--- This man mentored basically every other professor. That's not a headcanon, I'm just stating an observation.

--- Old friends eith Magnolia. The two used to send letters to eachother for a while, but only because Rowan refused to get a phone. Eventually Lucas convinced him he needed one if the two were gonna do field research together, and he quickly got a hold of Magnolia's number.

--- He was surprised to learn Sonia took over for Magnolia, but pleased as well. Even more so when he heard of Sonia taking on a student. He promptly offered to mentor the two anytime, and Magnolia found that such a brilliant idea that she arranged a date for Sonia and Hop to visit Rowan's lab.

--- Probably like, 400 years old. Fairly confident he's an immortal being observing the human realm and making sure we come to understand the right knowledge.

---- Chief of the Council of Trees.

---- Takes on a grandparent role for every young menace he finds. Complains about it, but actually likes it. He knew the moment he saw Dawn, Lucas, and Barry that they were special. They had the same spark in their eyes that Cynthia had when she was a teenager who visited his lab.

--- Cynthia was the first to complete his pokedex. She did it before even becoming champion. Really its just a formality at this point, but Rowan knows there's always the chance to learn more.

--- Probably saw through Cyrus' facade immediately. He could tell Cyrus had a heart and cared, and was suffering. But he could also tell it was too late. He would later warn Sycamore to "pick Lysandre up before he falls too far into his own hell". Sycamore came to him to apologize for his failure, but Rowan made certain his student knew he did his best, and he was proud nonetheless, and heartbroken to see another brilliant mind gone.

Palmer:

--- Basically Ging from HxH

---- Great sense of humour, only person in the region who can beat Cynthia with relative ease more often than not.

---- He loves his son dearly, and hates himself for what his distance has caused.

---- Literally just goes to Snowpeak temple to "borrow" Regigigas. Candice hates it, but Palmer actually has a god listen to him and he's the strongest trainer in the region, so she can't exactly stop him.

---- No, he's not Minato Namikaze from Naruto. In pokemon, Minato Namikaze is designed after him.

Crasher Wake:

--- Palmer's childhood friend, and a purehearted man who strives to be the best he can

--- Much stronger than his gym placement would have you believe, but he prefers it that way.

--- Maylene's mentor, and she kicked the shit out of him enough for him to not want anything to do with Barry- not even considering what Barry's father means for Barry's potential

--- Saved his pokemon from water-based accidsnts, and has bonded with them greatly.

Mars:

--- Met Cyrus in high school/college

--- She also saw through Cyrus' facade, and genuinely thought he could get better. She still believes so, even after Galactic's collapse and recreation via Saturn as an energy company (canon btw). However she's accepted the truth, and she's moved on and reclaimed her life, feeling remorse for her actions. She now works as an indie fashion designer, while doing pokemon welfare work on the side.

--- She's gained quite a large following, and her identity is no secret. Many people despise her, but many more understand that she was also a victim, and that she's grown. In a world where Saturn has reworked Galactic's image, she's found a place to live a happy life.

Caitlin:

--- Didn't realize her spot in the frontier would be so much work, and that's why Darach does everything.

--- At this point in time she's much more childish, and doesn't understand the world as well. She was often secluded from the world, and part of that was the absolute exhaustion she felt all the time. She just never felt the energy to do anything.

--- She was only starting to realize that it had something to do with her slumbering (heh) psychic powers. In a sense, her powers had a lot to do with dreams. But she could do other things.

--- At this point in time however, Caitlin was effectively Cynthia's guest. Which she was mostly content with, but for a period of time she did end up participating in the Frontier herself, before the Unovan E4 came calling.

Lucian:

--- This man literally keeps everything running

--- The league would be in shambles if not for Lucian

--- Everyone else goes who the fuck knows where and Lucian is left to do everything while Bertha has a nap.

--- He also has style, and he knows it. And he deserves to, because this man is fucking beautiful.

-- But he is rather humble. He can come across as pretentious, but he doesn't mean to, he just speaks that way naturally.

--- He's really a kind person, and a little known fact? He's the pianist for Volkner and Flint's band.

Saturn:

--- Likely Cyrus' biggest threat other than himself. He was never informed about the true nature of Cyrus' plan, while Mars and Jupiter were (I believe this is canon)

--- That's because Saturn didn't fall for Cyrus' charm. Saturn was simply an observer, he was as close to a neutral party as you get in Galactic (look over his dialogue closesly. I used to think Saturn was a bastard but.... he's really not)

---- If Saturn knew about Cyrus' true plan, it's likely he would have tried to stop Cyrus. And Saturn would have been a threat in two ways: His strength and cunning, and his words. Cyrus knows deep down he has feelings, he knows he cares for his pokemon, and he knows he can be happy. But he's in denial he's traumatized. And Saturn's words could either cut through that, or use that fact. Point it out. Validate it. Make it clear it's not wrong to be traumatized, but this is too far.

--- After Cyrus' dissapearance and Charon's stupid ass bullshit, Saturn would go on to rework Galactic into a proper energy company like he believed it always should have been. He turns a new leaf, and starts over (talk to Saturn in the post game after everything at the Galactic HQ- I believe that's where he is- he states this is his plan, and he realizes what happened was wrong. How he was.basically just observing, but how Cyrus has so many people.fooled. Saturn may be morally grey, but he's surprisingly close to morally good.)

Looker:

--- Looker was actually a rather new agent in Sinnoh. That' why he told Lukas and Dawn everything, and why he seemed so incompotent.

--- He did not have the legal ability to arrest Charon, and was forced to release him (real interpol can't arrest people)

--- Fantinia taught him the Sinnovian he was missing after the events.

--- He had a rivalry with Saturn during the Galactic events

Gardenia:

---- Has contemplated blocking off the old chateau, but she knows the city would get on her case.

---- She loves the forest, but that damn building is awful to walk by on the way in and out

---- She tries to preserve as much of Eterna's history as possible. It's hard though, with all the old records missing.

--- She was about to storm Galactic's building herself when she heard it had already been done by Lukas and Dawn. She was more than excited to battle the trainers who kicked Galactic out.

Candice:

---- She has the best cold tolerance out of the league, aside from Cynthia. And that bothers her because it's as if Cynthia just doesn't care about temperature. She literally went to alola wearing a heavy winter coat and Candice just didn't understand.

---- She finds watching trainers struggle with her gym puzzle amusing

---- She's got a fashion rivalry with Mars.

#pokemon #pokemon gen 4 #pokemon dppt #pokemon bdsp #pokemon headcanons

[sambergscott]

notes from the palm springs commentary !! 🏝

i know not everyone has access to hulu and i know i'd be gutted if i couldn’t watch it too so bc i'm lucky enough to have an american friend who let me use her hulu account i thought i'd share the commentary with you all on here <3 

- their first bit of commentary is “there’s a title” (cristin) and “there’s a goat” (andy)... 10/10 anaylsis thanks guys

- andy joked that they talked about waiting for an earthquake but decided they didn’t have the budget to wait that long (he said the glowing lights at the end were real tho 🙄)

- andy: “we’re gonna start off pretty racy” djfdjfkdjgh

- “for all those kids out there, the b99 fans, you probably don’t wanna watch this”.... but andy,, we absolutely Do

- andy was cristin’s least favourite person in the movie

- nyles spread eagle on the bed was in the script not an acting choice

- according to andy there were 700,000 bugs just hatched where they filmed the wedding scenes that they had to edit out in post (also it was suuuuuper cold and cristin was shivering)

- ANDY CALLED HIMSELF A BUTT UGLY WEIRDO. NO SIR. U ARE THE FURTHEST THING FROM THAT.

- the dance move when he clapped his hands over his head “lightly hurt his schlong”

- they had 20-30 options for orchid explosion by fournier, cristin pitched some too that she “does not remember!” (she said that very cute)

- they talk about how great june squibb is and how andy is impressed that she wasn’t complaining about the cold/shooting at 5am/the fact that they improved a lil bit.  “she doesn’t not give a what”

- during the make out scene on the rock cristin goes “ohhh ~spicy~”

- they also had to have a snake wrangler come out before they shot that scene and he was like “uhh i think it’s good?”

- andy was excited about having to get shot by an arrow when he was reading the script (it was also the moment they realised this movie was zanier than first thought)

- the cave was the same place they shot the old batman movies

- they started working on palm springs on november 9th 2016…. hence the wedding date

- cristin said they did about 30 takes (at least) of her opening her eyes/sitting up.. basically the entire first half of the first day shooting she spent doing the same thing

- “i just think you’re the coolest cristin, way to go man!” “you too andy!”

- the beer is fictional and has a meaning behind it.. the tortoise is to do with a myth about the universe or smth

- andy wants someone to make the beer fr

- “so here is cristin in the desert pretending to be hot” “he means physically” “TEMPERATURE HOT… i have no opinions on her appearance”

- they wanted to skip past the set-up-y parts to avoid it being too groundhog day and add diff dynamics and comedic elements that come from that

- according to andy, nyles has been in the loop an “insanely long time” (cristin and andy like that you don’t know the exact number of years bc however many years it’s been nothing has changed for nyles)

- cristin’s fondest memories were spending days in that dusty ass car together (i too would like to be that girl in his car)

- “i like your hat” “of course you do” was improved by andy and jk

- andy said jk is a “national treash”

- andy loved shooting the montage w jk (and he thinks that montage + the scene at the end is why jk signed up to do ps)

- “i went full butt” - andy samberg, 2021

- HE HAS A STUNT DOUBLE CALLED SETH WHO HAS A SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER BUTT THAN HIM (but andy’s butt was funnier so they went with his)

- the very last shot of the movie was nyles getting the handjob in the car

- max or other andy i can’t remember who talked for a while about how talented our andy is. can’t wait for that oscar nom!!!!!

- if andy were in a time loop he’d try to catch up on shows for a few years (and then try and leave)

- cristin is horrified that he’d choose to watch all of MASH to get him through a time loop

- cristin LOVED filming all the deaths

- andy said that their dance scene in the denim jacket replaces every iconic dance scene ever like fame/dirty dancing/etc etc and he’s right

- he dropped her in that scene bc his arms are “weak and floppy like a baby calf”

- the tattoo moment was the only fully improved scene

- they REALLY wanted it in the movie

- cristin insisted on the hook hand and eye patch and they obliged and she said she kept the hook hand and put it on her mantle and andy was like “prove it prove it prove it prove it prooooooove it”

- she did Indeed prove it

- orange in the movie significies intimacy and that whole montage is coloured orange to show them falling in love

- they loved shooting the tent scene

- the first night they filmed it there was a sandstorm and rain and they had to hide under a tarp and they came back the next night and they were able to get looser with it bc it was the last day of shooting and they’d basically done the whole thing the night before

- the dinosaurs bit was a “symbolic moment between the characters - they are 2 people who don’t believe they can be loved so they’re feeling something impossible and therefore they should see something impossible”

- the wake-ups were like an acting exercise in a way bc each wake up was diff emotionally based on where they were in the loop

- nyles finally cares about something (her) for the first time in maybe hundreds of years and he immediately gets slapped down :(((

- “suck my dick officer bitch” was cristin’s ad lib!!! (if anyone makes a montage of her life’s work she would like it to either begin or end w suck my dick officer bitch, andy said why not both)

- “for some reason i rolled up one of my sleeves [after nyles woke up after their fight] and then we couldn’t get out of it so that was a lesson! it was a terrible choice”

- andy loves the overhead pool shot

- everytime andy watches the confrontation at the wedding he feels terrible for tala, we love an empathetic king

- re: roy’s arc andy talks about how important it is to relish what you’ve got and it was v v v v sweet

- everyone laughed so hard in the arrow/garbage bin scene

- apparently tyler’s shirtlessness in the shower was distracting for people in early tests and they had to tone it back w colour correction 💀

- cristin was like “did that happen when i had to take my shirt off?” and andy was like “uh huh yeah”

- the goat was on set for a couple of days + apparently cristin would talk to it in between takes 🥺🥺🥺 can she get any cuter

- max talked about how they lucky they were to get andy and cristin and how the movie wouldn’t have worked without them, they were so on the same wavelength and there was an early meeting where nobody else could get a word in bc they were talking so much

- nobody was in it for the paycheck, “it was for the love, and dare i say it, for the art” <3

- they took 3-4 nights to shoot the entire wedding, andy can Not stress enough how much they were rushing

- they haven’t busted out any bloopers yet bc they used pretty much every frame they could/reused them in different places

- cristin doesn’t want to know if nana knows bc the mystery of it is what makes the movie so great!

- andy said there’s no definitive answer to a lot of stuff bc a lot of the people working on the movie had diff opinions

- the french song w the slo mo bit of sarah in the bar was cristin’s choice

- andy is v confused why people think spuds is nyles’ dad,, he’s just tricking him into getting a ride and andy’s sorry to everyone who thought it was real

- cristin liked that the payoff at the end felt like payoff while still staying true to who nyles and sarah are and not just super romantic bc “it’s a romcom!” [andy said throwing his arms in the air]

- cloudbursting was andy’s idea from the very first meeting about the movie but we been knew

- andy: “here’s the ending! nobody knows what it means!”

- the family at the end was the producer’s family, they drove a very long way to do that 2 second scene lol

- andy and cristin were swaying to when the morning comes at the end 🥺

- andy clapped and shouted “WELL PRODUCED” when his/tli’s credit came up hahaha

#palm springs #andy samberg #cristin milioti #shoutout to caroline honestly #what an icon

[cxplqnce]

Liam Dunbar - Immortality

Word Count: 2,016

You’re a 600 year-old-vampire that has been a friend to the Hale’s for years and when Derek met Scott, you became friends with him too. Now Scott has to deal with a new beta that you accidently fall madly in love with after a promise to never love again.

Masterlist

“You guys are idiots, do you know that?” You whisper-yelled at Scott and Stiles outside of Scott’s bedroom – where a freshman named Liam was tied up after Scott had bitten him.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Scott whisper-yelled back, a definite ‘I need help’ look in his eyes.

You sighed, a few possible solutions running through your brain, “He’s definitely going to turn, right?” The two boys hesitantly nodded their heads as you continued to think, “Then we just talk to him. I mean, he’ll understand. We just need to explain it right.”

The boys agreed and pulled Liam out of the bathtub and into a chair which they placed in front of Scott’s bed. They then looked to you as you leant forward to look in his eyes, “Don’t scream when we take the tape off your mouth.” You said, using your compulsion powers.

You moved and Stiles leant forward to peel the tape off his mouth, a pained groan leaving his throat. “Okay, Liam, now you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight. And more confusing things are going to happen because of the confusing things that happened tonight. Do you understand?”

“Not really.” Liam replied with both you and Scott agreeing with his answer.

Stiles nodded his head, “Good. That's good.”

“I don't understand either.” Scott said, looking up slightly and trying to work it out in his head.

Stiles pointed to Scott and then to Liam, “Maybe you should tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Liam demanded as you rubbed your head and sighed.

Scott took a step forward and softened his tone as he spoke, “Liam... What happened to you, what I did to you, which I had to do in order to save you, it's going to change you.”

“Unless it kills you.” Stiles interrupted but quickly followed with, “Shouldn't have said that.”

“What?” Liam asked, his eyes widened and his heart rate speeding up. Liam’s eyes started to water as he let his head drop. You definitely felt bad for the kid, I mean he was even younger than Scott was when he was turned and younger than you were when you were turned into a vampire.

“Uh... Uh-oh. Oh-oh. Is he... Is he crying?” Stiles questioned as Scott kneeled down in front of Liam.

“Liam, it's okay. You're going to be all right… You're not going to die.” He consoled, as Stiles knelt next to him.

“Probably not.”

“Stop it.” Scott scolded.

Stiles nodded, “Okay, possibly not.”

“Would you just help me untie him?” Scott asked, the two boys moving to pull the tape off Liam and the chair before standing back in front of him, “Liam? Are you okay?”

Stiles looked down for a second before looking back at Liam, “We're sorry about that. We're really sorry.” He spoke, slowly and in almost a whisper.

Liam turned around and before any of you could do anything he grabbed the chair and whacked Scott with it, causing him to fall to the ground – taking Stiles with him. You snorted, a chuckle coming from your throat as Stiles pulled himself up just to get punched by Liam. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to conceal the laugh in your throat as Liam ran out of the room.

You just watched while Scott and Stiles clumsily got up from the floor and stumbled out the room, following Liam. You shook your head and sighed following the loud noises before finding Scott and Stiles at the bottom of the stairs in a heap and the door wide open. “You boys okay?”

“What the hell were you doing?” Stiles shouted.

“Watching and laughing, a lot.”

--------------

You stood with the rest of your pack in Lydia’s lake house watching the chaos unfold as Kira brought Liam through the door.

“What the hell is this?” Liam demanded, a stern look covering his face.

“Think of it like an intervention.” Stiles began, “You have a problem, Liam.”

“And we're the only ones that can help.” Scott finished.

You sat down, pouring a blood bag into a glass and lifting it up, “This is going to be fun, cheers!”

-------------

You stood watching as Scott and Stiles held a very riled up Liam underneath the shower in an effort to calm him down after he went for one of the students at Devenford Prep.

“Okay! Okay!” Liam yelled, after his face had gone back to normal.

Scott and Stiles pulled back and turned the shower off as Liam slid down the tiled wall and onto the floor, “That car you smashed... I thought you said that was your teacher's?” Scott asked.

“He was also my coach. He benched me for the entire season.” Liam replied.

“What did you do?” You asked, intrigued.

Liam looked down at the floor, “I got a couple of red cards...”

“Just a couple?” Stiles remarked, earning him a jab in the ribs from your elbow.

Scott ignored your little disagreement and continued the conversation, “You gotta be honest with us-- what else happened?”

“Nothing. I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation.”

“What did they call it?” Scott asked, kneeling down to Liam’s level.

Liam replied while doing everything he could not to meet Scott’s eyes, “Intermittent explosive disorder.”

“I.E.D.? You're literally an I.E.D.? That's great. That's great… You gave powers to a walking time bomb!” Stiles exclaimed, earning him another jab in ribs from your elbow that seemed to put a slight smile on Liam’s face – however fleeting it was.

“Did they give you anything for it?” Scott asked.

“Risperdal. It's an antipsychotic.”

“Oh, this just gets better...” Stiles mumbled.

“But I don't take it—” Liam interjected.

“Obviously!”

You shook your head, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“I can't play lacrosse on it, it makes me too tired.” Liam said, looking down at the floor again.

“Okay. I think you should bail out of the game. Tell Coach your leg is still hurting.” Scott suggested.

“No! No. I can do this-- especially if you're there.” Liam retorted, standing up from his position on the floor.

Scott sighed, “But Liam... this isn't just about the game. We think whoever killed Demarco may have been on our team.”

“Who's Demarco?” Liam asked.

“The one who brought the beer to the party? The guy who was beheaded, remember?” Stiles replied.

“We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco.” Scott continued. Liam looked down, thinking for a second. “Liam...? What, you know something?”

“I don't know who ordered the keg... But I know who paid for it.”

-------------

After Liam had told Scott that Garrett had ordered the keg, Scott and Stiles left the room – leaving you alone with Liam.

“You okay?” You asked, taking a step closer to him, from your position against a locker. “That was pretty intense.”

Liam nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay… you must’ve seen that before, right? With Scott.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen out of control werewolves millions of times.” You chuckled, sitting down on a bench in the locker room. “I mean, if you hadn’t have done something like that at least once or twice, I’d think there was something wrong with you.”

Liam sat down on the bench next to you, “How do you know so much about werewolves?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my extremely long life surrounded by the supernatural – mainly werewolves. And I’ve been helping the Hale family for decades… You pick things up.”

“Wait… decades?” Liam questioned, his brows furrowed, “I thought you were 16.”

You nodded, “Physically, yeah. But technically I’m six-hundred and… something – maybe like fourteen or fifteen. I don’t know – I’ve lost count.” You explained, the look of confusion still evident on Liam’s face. “Did Scott and Stiles not tell you that I’m a vampire?”

Liam’s eyes widened, “You’re a vampire? Those exist?”

“Yeah… They do.” You replied, chuckling at his reaction. “And before you ask, I have a ring that lets me walk in the daylight, the reflection thing is a myth and so is the garlic and holy water thing. Also, yes, I do drink blood.”

“That’s insane!” Liam exclaimed, “That’s really cool.”

-----------

For the next two weeks you ended up getting closer to Liam, helping him through his anger and then just generally spending time with him. Unfortunately, you had figured out that you had started to like him – so you started avoiding him. You couldn’t fall in love again, not after what had happened the last time.

It was 1749, you were living in London and had met a man, someone that you connected with and eventually fell in love with. You were about to leave town – as you routinely did every few years – when he found you leaving and you admitted to him what you were. He said he didn’t care so you continued to stay with him. Eventually, you had to leave but he decided to come with you – you found a place in the middle of nowhere, where you could live together.

You got engaged, then married and spent the rest of his life with him. When he died, it broke you and you made a promise to never love again, to never put that life on anyone else.

“Y/N!” Liam yelled from the end of the corridor you had turned into. You tried to turn around but he had already caught up to you, “Are you avoiding me or something? Cause I haven’t seen you in days.”

“No, no I’m not avoiding – I’ve just been busy. Vampire stuff.” You lied, however not very well, but before Liam could reply you made an excuse to leave.

------------

It was raining when Liam called you, you weren’t sure whether to pick up the phone or not but since it could’ve been some kind of emergency – you did.

“Hello?” You asked into the phone.

“Y/N, can you come over please.” He whispered, his voice was shaking and you could hear that he was nervous.

You thought for a second, debating in your head, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You hung up the phone and drove to Liam’s house, parking a few houses down and jumping up to his window. You saw him sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his hands together. You gently tapped on the window, his head whipping around to you before he stood up and came over to open it.

“What do you need at 2 in the morning?” You asked, climbing into his room and closing the window behind you.

Liam debated over what he was going to say before sighing, “I keep seeing the Berserkers, I can’t sleep and I keep going over in my head why you won’t talk to me.” He said, looking at the ground almost the entire time until he mentioned you.

You sighed, sitting down on his bed, “It’s not you, per say. I have been alive for a long time, Liam, and one of the worst things about immortality is love.” You started. Liam sat down next to you, giving you his full attention. “I will outlive everyone that I love, which is why I try not to love very many people. And I promised myself almost 300 years ago, that I would never fall in love with someone again… and then you happened. The reason I’ve been distant is so I can try to stop myself from falling in love with you because I know that one day… I’ll lose you.”

Liam’s eyes widened when you mentioned love and him in the same sentence, “Did it work?” He asked, “Avoiding me to stop falling in love with me?”

You looked up at him, staring right into his blue eyes. “No.” You said, simply, only now realising just how close you were.

“You can’t live without love, Y/N.” Liam said, “It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.”

You smiled, leaning closer to him, “Then maybe I should give it a shot.”

“You definitely should.” Liam whispered, the small space between your lips closed as he leaned down to kiss you.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Follow my instagram @cxplqnce :) also I take requests if you have any - for any of the fandoms on my masterlist and some others! :)

#liam dunbar #liam dunbar imagine #liam dunbar x reader #liam dunbar one-shot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Bloodshed AU

Chapter 7

Warnings: Nudity, Gore, Language, Adult Themes (Slight smut) Summary: Steve Rogers works in a research and tech company in New York. He’s been digging into myths and footage on a creature known as the werewolf. Vicious as they are, he hunts them. With a lot of failures, his team thinks he’s crazy. He may prove them wrong.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Characters (Bloodshed Seven)

Chapter 8 is gonna be awesome. Chapter 7 and 8 are gonna be my favorites of all time!

I do not post my stories on any other websites. So if you see them anywhere else, it’s there without my consent. 

Reblog, like and comment!

2 Years Ago.

“Go!” The girl screams, the silver-haired boy starts the car and starts to drive out of the forest. The girl sobs in the passenger seat as the boy reaches over and holds her hand. “Sis, you need to call the police. Do it, now!” 

The girl digs for her phone and pulls it out, she turns to his window side and gasped. “Pietro!” Glass shatters on his side and the beast yelps, pulling away from the window as the boy drove off the road and crashes into the tree.

The girl pulls away from the dash, looking down at her clothes, her sweater covered in blood and she turns to the driver. “No! Pietro!” She grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Wake up, Pietro... Wake up!” She chokes a sob.

The girl gasps to the loud and long howl of the beast. She pulls her door open and stumbles out. Kicking herself away from the crash, she stumbles onto her feet and runs into the forest.

Another howl was called. She whimpers, stumbling over twigs. The forest could go on for miles. She knew there was a road a little ways out. She runs and trips over the log, crashing into pine needles and dirt. She turns around and picks up a rock, “Stay away from me!” She shouts.

The forest was quiet.

Her panting was harsh and short. She threw the rock over the brush and a low growl erupts from it. She stood up again and continued to run. She heard rustling on her left side. Her right. And behind. 

She sobs and meets the hard ground, she realized she stood on the road. Headlights began to shine and she waved her hands, “Help! Help me please!” The truck stops in front of her and she rushes over to the driver.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” The man jumps out, she stumbles into his arms. “There’s something in the forest! They killed my brother! They-”

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down-”

“My brother...” She sobs and the man looks out to where she came from. Nothing was following her. Not anymore. The man looks down at her, “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Wanda... Wanda Maximoff...” She says. He continues to hold her, “Where’s your brother?” Wanda points out to the forest, “We crashed on a dirt road. They... jumped through the window and broke it.” The man sees the blood on her and scans her body, “Are you hurt?” He asked.

She shook her head, knowing she did hit her head hard on the dash, “Call the police, please...” The man nods, shrugging off his jacket, “Here. Take this and sit in the truck. I’ll call the cops.”

He leaves her in front of the truck as he goes for his phone. The girl looks out to the forest. Shaking under his coat, her cheeks soaked in her own tears. She sobs quietly on the road.

.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” The police asked, the girl sat in the back of the ambulance truck. She still had the trucker’s coat as she stared at the ground. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“And what was your brother’s name?”

“Pietro Maximoff.”

“You’re twins,” The officer wrote the things down, “Do you have any parents? Anyone who we can call?” He asked. Wanda looks up to him, her lip lifting up with a low growl, “My parents died in a bombing. Here in Sokovia. Have you not heard? The man who did it got away with just a simple amount of money.”

The officer nods, “I do. And I’m sorry to hear that.” He continued to write some things down and he reaches for his belt and held them there. “You wanna tell me what happened?” Wanda looks over and sees what was Pietro’s body. Being dragged on a gurney into the other ambulance. 

Wanda felt the tear fall, “It was them...” The officer furrows his brows and looks around, “Who is them?” He asked. Wanda lifts up her hand and shook in pure rage. The officer felt chills run up his spine the way she looked. Like a insane woman.

“The Bloodshed Seven...”

Steve sat there in the dark, the only light was still the window as it beamed in the center part of the room. He could see the soft glow of her face. Almost a hint of red glow in her eyes, he thought he might be on something.

Steve looks down in the book and sees that Erik had written down a few questions. He flicks his blue orbs back up to her.

“We read about you in an article back in 2013, you were 18 at the time. Your brother-”

“Pietro,” She blurts out. Steve looks up to her and nods, “Yes. Pietro. They reported that you both went out to visit your grandparents who lived in the woods? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Cold...” She mutters, Steve furrows his brows at her.  She repeated the word in a low whisper. The man shuffled in his seat a little bit as she trailed off, dazing somewhere else. This woman was out of her mind. He needed to keep this going before she does flip out. “Wanda. I need you to focus-” Wanda grabs his shirt and tugs him forward, she was a few feet away but she was quick enough to snatch his shirt into her fists.

“They killed her! They killed Pietro! I was almost killed!” She tugs him back and she stumbles back into the darkness again.

“Like little red riding hood... running,” She says in a higher octave, sounding like a child. Steve fixes his shirt, feeling the uneasiness wash over him, feeling the hairs on his arms stand up. His breathing picked up as he watched her closely. What was the point to get this out of her? What was up with this cold blue moon? Was it a hunting season for the werewolves?

“Out jumped the big bad wolf...” She says in a low voice, picking at her hair as Steve watched her carefully. She felt his gaze and looks up to him, “Bloodshed seven hide... Come out under the cold moon. Little red riding hood has nowhere to hide. The wolf takes her. Tearing her limps, piece...”

Steve felt the nightmare rush through his thoughts. Those dark red eyes staring at him like the devil. Ripping his limps off, piece...

“By piece.” Steve looks over to the woman as she giggles in the corner. “Run. The boy who cried wolf. They will not help you...” Steve felt her dark gaze as she smiles up at him. “You’ll die in the forest... alone.”

Steve felt his heart clench in his chest, he rushed out of the room and the nurse never came to aid him as he rushed out of the building. The large slam of the front doors got Erik’s worried attention and spotted Steve come out, clenching his chest. The old man rushes up, “Rogers! Are you okay? What did she tell you?” He says, hovering his hands over the frightened grown man.

Steve doesn’t respond and slaps the journal into his chest, “We need to leave. Take your damn journal, I’m dropping your ass off at the lab.” With that, Steve jumps in the truck and leans over, panting heavily as he leaned on his wheel. 

The growling filled his ears and he shook his head.

What a crazy woman.

Steve hadn’t contacted the three weirdos from yesterday. Not after seeing Maximoff in that hospital. Gave him a horrifying shock and his nightmares had gotten worse. He didn’t sleep well last night. He remembered when his thumb hovered over his phone to dial Natasha. 

But he only closed it.

Steve needed something to help him think. He barely slept that night, so the diner across the street wasn’t so bad to clear his head. He sat in one of the booths and stared out the window, watching the cars pass by like it was some normal day for him.

In his mind was just the nightmares and that girl’s face.

The boy who cried wolf.

“Hey,” Someone spoke up, Steve turns to see Y/N, her large smile creeping up to her face. Steve seemed to grin at her, “Morning,” He says. Y/N had her coffee in hand, “I thought that was you. I was looking from across the diner,” She lied. Looking, he thought. How long has she been looking at him? 

Y/N hadn’t spot him across the diner, it was the scent of him that made her come over. Her wolf went feral once again but she gained control. “May I?” She asks, gesturing to the empty booth, Steve nods. “Go ahead.”

Y/N sits in front of him and grins, “You’re lucky to see me again. Such a huge coincidence,” She softly chuckles. Steve grins up at her with the half-lidded eyes. Tired but such gentle and genuine eyes.

She lowers her head and Steve lifts up his, “So you and James?” Y/N looks over to him and she furrows her brows. “Bucky?” Steve gestures to her, “You and him...?” He trailed off.

Y/N realizes what he means and softly chuckles, “No! Oh no, we’re just really close friends. I consider him a brother.” Steve nods, maybe that’s why Bucky seemed a bit defensive toward her.

Protective brother.

“I think he hates me,” Steve admits, Y/N peers up at him hurtful, “No,” She lies, trying to sound truthful. “He doesn’t hate you. He just... He’s just a grump. Mostly he’s tired. Working on bikes...” Y/N raises her cup to her lips. 

Steve grins at her and he slowly turns away, “Have you heard about werewolves roaming around your home?” He asked, noticing the way she pauses and lifts her head up, slightly choking.

“Werewolves? As in a man who shifts into a wolf? I mean some people can mistake bears as other things, I’ve seen wolves but not... werewolves,” She clears her throat.

Steve drops his head, “You know anyone who could have seen one?”

Y/N raises her head again, eyes narrowing at the slightest, “I honestly don’t know. I’ve seen videos and stuff but you know. College kids, crazy people who just beg for money. Like that Rogers guy.” Y/N grins and Steve felt his heart stop.

Y/N noticed and looked up to him, “Hey, you okay?” Steve lifts up his head and sees the worry in her eyes. He spots the flashes of the cold blue eyes reflect off her normal color eyes. 

He hears large growling in his ear again. His heart beating against his own chest. The flash of those blue eyes of a werewolf, he shook his head and glass shatters. Y/N and Steve turn to see the waitress on her knees, cleaning up the mess of the plastic plates. 

Steve placed his hands on the table and thought for a moment, “Sorry, I should go. I-” Y/N watches as he slides out of the booth and out towards the door. Y/N instantly stands up, “Wait, Steve.”

Steve pushes through the doors and he hears footsteps behind him. “Steve, wait!” He turns and looks at Y/N who runs up. “Hey, I’m sorry if I upset you for what I said.”

Steve tried to shake his head like it was no problem, “No, it’s fine. I just...” He pauses and sees the concern gaze coming from her. Does she not know who he was? 

Y/N’s lips part, “I also wanted to... make up an offer.”

Steve doesn’t speak, letting her continue for her offer. She pants, “Did you want to come over for dinner? My family and I were having lasagna tonight. And I thought you’d like to get to know my family better. I surely knew we had a rough start and I think Ada likes you very much.”

Steve looks at her up and down, a tough gaze before he nods once. “Okay. Is eight alright?” He asked.

Y/N softly grins, “Make it seven. I’ll pick you up.” Steve grins back at her and they hear someone call for her. Steve spots Bucky on his bike, waving at Y/N. Dark shades covering his eyes but Steve knew Bucky was trying to kill him with looks. “I should go,” She says.

Steve looks over to her and nods, letting her walk off to Bucky. Steve and Bucky had kept their stares once Y/N greeted him. She hops on his bike and Bucky gave Steve one more glance. Keeping his eyes on the man, Bucky revved his motorcycle and rides off with Y/N. Leaving Steve there on the sidewalk. The man puffed out a long sigh. This dinner was not gonna end well.

.

“You did what?” Roman spats, Y/N could hear his wolf growl in his throat as she turned away from him. “I think we had a rough start! Besides, this guy doesn’t even look like he knows anything,” Y/N says, throwing her arms out in a shrug.

“Oh, so you pity him?” Randall asks.

Y/N’s wolf growled at him and that only made him smirk. “Whether you mutts like it or not, you can eat upstairs.” Ada wasn’t even in the conversation. Tatum was the one laughing through all of it. Bucky had been in the corner with his arms crossed. Not at the moment to jump in because this was about Steve. Something was off with the wolf man and Bucky didn’t trust the man.

“You think Roman can handle a human? His big bad wolf comes out like Ada’s worst days-” Roman’s wolf snarls at the teenager and Tatum’s wolf lets out a scared whine. Ada rolls her eyes at the two, “Y/N, I think what you’re doing is not what we all want. It’s not following our rules.”

“Then having sex with one another is not breaking the rules? And I didn’t know Roman had something down there,” Y/N remarks, Roman growled and storms up to her. The two back up into a wall and Y/N gets caged in Roman’s body.

His scent singed her nostrils as his flared. Her wolf growled loudly and so did his, both sharing deadly glares. “Is Ada your new Omega? Huh?” Y/N pushes, Roman grabs her throat and Ada was quick enough to rip the two apart.

“Enough you two! You!” She points at Roman, “Keep your distance! I don’t want to deal with a fight right now! And you!” Ada shouts, pointing at Y/N. “You keep your mouth shut.” Silence fell once again and Ada looks over to the clock. 

It was almost 6.

She breathed out slowly, “We’ll allow this dinner. But if I hear another bitch comment from one of you two again, I will chain one of you outside. Do I make myself clear?” She asks.

Roman and Y/N glance at each other, both glaring for challenge with their eyes. Surely everything the whole group does is how off their growls, teeth, eyes and stance. Roman happened to be an Alpha. But not to Y/N. With a snap of Ada’s fingers, she points at the two, “Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N and Roman turn away from each other and Roman walks off without another word. Ada sighs, “Good. Now. Randall put on a damn shirt on. Tatum, you as well. Bucky, can you set up the table?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen. Ada turns to Y/N and sees the look on her face, the dark haired woman walks over and gently rubs Y/N’s shoulders. “Hey, calm down. He’s not gonna mess with him. I won’t let that happen. Go or the food will get cold.”

Y/N glances at Ada and watches her walk off. Y/N takes the car keys and heads for the car. She drove down to the town and waited for Steve to leave his room. Y/N could hear the click of his door and saw Steve step out of his room. He gets into the passenger seat and grins. “Nice ride,” He says, Y/N grins.

“Not nicer than the motorbike,” She said.

Steve grins, “I have one in New York. We would’ve rode back.” Y/N chuckles softly, “You consider being the one to hold me by the waist?” Steve shakes his head with a small smile, “Could be the other way around. I know how to ride one.”

Y/N doesn’t take that as a flirting thing and she softly laughs, pulling out of the parking lot to her house.

Once they reached her house, Steve gets out and waits for Y/N to meet up with him. Y/N was the first to step up to the doors and enter in the large cabin home. Steve could smell the food from here and Y/N shouts out to the family. 

Y/N takes Steve into the dining room. The fireplace was lit and the dining lights were on. He heard large thuds, “Watch out!” Tate shouts, almost crashing into Steve’s shoulder as he flies into the room like a wild animal. Randall walks in afterwards, slightly giving Steve a glare up and down.

This family didn’t like him.

Y/N reassuringly gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s eat,” She said. Tatum and Randall sat on the one side, both starting shove each other. Ran gave the boy a glare and Tate returns with laughs. 

Ada comes over and puts wine on the table. “It’s nice to see you again, Steve.” The man looks up and softly grins. “Thanks. You too.”

“Wine or beer?” She asked.

Steve looks over to Y/N for an approval, he stammers, “Uh... beer?” He asked. Ada nods but then Y/N raises her fingers, “I’ll grab them.” Y/N gives Steve a small glance as she stands up from her seat and walks over to the fridge, finding the bottles of beer.

“I’ll take one!” Tate shouts, only to receive a punch from Randall, “Ow!” The boy grunts. Steve inspected the two who probably had no manners on how to act around guests. But he didn’t mind it.

Her family was probably foster kids.

Neither of them looked relatable. He should ask her about it but he didn’t want to push more into her life. Y/N sits down next to him and popped open the caps. The two boys settled down and Steve saw Bucky walk in at the corner of his eyes.

Steve took a glance and Bucky watched him as he walked to the other side of the table with Ran and Tate, taking a seat there. Steve seemed to swallow hard as Ada joins at the table.

“I hope you like lasagna and garlic bread. Unless you’re a vampire,” Ada jokes, Steve chuckles along with Y/N but his was cut off by the look from Bucky. He cleared his throat and reached for his beer. Distracting himself with the taste stinging his taste buds.

Roman was the last one to enter the dining room. It wasn’t audible for Steve but Y/N sensed his wolf low growled as he sat down across from Ada.

“Roman. You remember Steve,” Ada says, sounding to nice as she was. Roman doesn’t even respond as he shoots a dark stare toward Steve and Y/N cleared her throat.

Steve needed to start something common to keep the silence from being awkward. He spoke, “What do you guys do? Like outside the house?” He asked.

Ada looks up and looked over to the family if one of them were going to speak. No one did so she cleared her throat, “Randall here cuts trees. A lumberjack, you can say. For about 6 years and he can name every tree,” Ada grins.

Steve manages to smile and Randall glares in return. Ada looks over to Tatum, “Tate here, he was home-schooled. He’s nineteen but he doesn’t consider on getting a job.”

“Yeah. It’s time he moves out,” Randall mutters, raising his glass to his mouth. Tatum shoves him and they scowl at each other. Ada grins, “Bucky here, he just works in the garage. Fixing an old motorbike he found in the scrapyard.” Steve looks over to Bucky who picked at his food and raised it up to his mouth.

“And I’m just an at-home mother. Roman is the alpha around the house,” Ada adds, laughing as it was a joke. Steve took it as one when Y/N forced a smile on her lips and Roman kept his eyes on Steve throughout the whole dinner.

Y/N’s wolf growled every time Roman would glance at her. It was around 9 and Y/N thought to return Steve back to the motel. So, he said goodbye to the family before heading out to Y/N’s car. She jumped in and pulled onto the dark highway. 

The silence was awkward but the music was calming to them. Y/N seemed to get use to his scent. But her wolf thought otherwise. Y/N gently shook her head, “I’m sorry if my family... was odd. They never had someone come over in years.”

Steve turns, “How come?” He asked.

Y/N chuckles, “They just live so far out and they don’t talk to many people. We just have each other.” Steve nods and turns away to look at the road again. Y/N glances over to him, “Have you visited your mom?” She asked. Steve inhales softly and nodded, “I did.”

“Is she doing well?”

Steve grins softly, “Better than I ever seen her. She worries about me though. After my dad died, she thought I would struggle because him and I was going out more than ever. I joined the army and she gotten even more worried. Then I left when I found out she got cancer.”

Y/N nods softly and sighs, “I send her my regards. And to you.” Steve gazes over to her and grins sadly. Taking her regard nicely. “Thank you.”

The rest of the drive was calm and nice, Steve liked it. Y/N stopped at his room and Steve opens the door. “Thank you for dinner,” He says. Y/N swats her hand at him, “It was nothing. Besides... I’m open anytime to help.”

Steve smiles and closes her car door, walking towards his room. Once he did, Y/N looks up front and grips her hands on the wheel. Her wolf is going feral. Growling. For hunger. She barely ate at that dinner.

She craved it. His scent lingering on the passenger seat. Stealing a glance at the back of his head. She growled and ripped her keys out of the ignition. Seconds he got up to the door, Steve heard her door close and he got his motel room door open. With a turn, he felt hands grab him. Then a pair of lips crash onto his.

His body leans back but his head leaned into Y/N’s lips as she pulled him by his shirt. Steve’s hand reached for her waist, pulling the loops of her jeans as they back into his room and Y/N kicks the door close.

Steve shoves her, crashing into the TV. None of them seemed bothered by the crash as Steve tugs her shirt. He grabs her waist and rips her up onto the surface. She pulls his flannel off his shoulders and slipped her hands under his shirt.

He took that sign and ripped it off, going back to kiss her with need. His hand grabs her waist and she lets out a breathy moan.

The morning sun beams through the tangerine colored curtains. The fainted buzzing noise on the ground inside the unbuttoned dark jeans. Steve opens his eyes to the buzzing sound as he turns on his back and leans a bit off the bed to reach for his jeans.

Taking his phone in hand, his phone notified him a missed call. 

Missed call from Natasha

Steve placed his phone on the nightstand that had no sign of the lamp anymore. He looks at the lamp on the ground and slowly sat up from the bed. Viewed the whole room that looked like animals had invaded the space. The TV was on the ground, his cigarette packet and personal things are sprawled all over the ground.

He sees black bra on the edge of the bed and turns to see Y/N’s bare back. He rubs his face and yawns softly, taking in the scene around him. 

He’d have to ask for a maid to clean it up. Maybe a new room. Y/N was good friend’s with Erik, perhaps he’ll understand. Steve didn’t want to get up. Instead, he looked to his right and reaches over with his left hand to rub his finger down her spine. Y/N doesn’t stir, hair falling over his cheeks while he leaned in to kiss behind her ear. Then her jaw. Her jaw to her shoulder. Y/N stirs this time, moaning softly. 

His hand trails down her body as she turned onto her back to look up to him. Steve continued to pepper her with kisses before he pulled away to look at her tired eyes. Her neck covered in red bruises and bites. Hair disheveled from being pulled. Somewhere around 3 rounds, he knew she could probably go for hours. 

Some bruises have already healed, and he remembered them being dark as the night sky. Her upper half was not covered with the sheets, but he didn’t look down to enjoy those curves. Instead, he just looked into her eyes. She smiles, “What?” She laughs softly.

Steve looks up at her hair then down to her eyes again, “Nothing. Just...” He didn’t have the words as he reached up to her right cheek with his left hand. She closes her eyes to the warmth from his hand.

Her skin was warm as well. It always was. 

His thumb brushes over her cheek as she hums, “What time is it?” She asked. Steve finally looks down her chest, his hand going to her ribs now just under her breast. “It’s 9 in the morning.”

Y/N reaches up to her face, rubbing the side of it as she yawns. She turns onto her side to face him as he smiles at her. He thought about his stomach growling, wanting to grab some breakfast.

“You wanna grab breakfast?” He asked, Y/N looks down at his chest, running her hand down the gathered chest hair and a small happy trail. She hums, “We can go after a shower.”

Steve grins and places a kiss on her lips. 

She placed another on his and he reaches for her cheek, keeping her there and she sits up on top of his lap, kissing him. Steve’s palm lays flat on her back and the other hooks under her knee before he lifts her up when he stands, taking her into the bathroom.

.

Y/N sat in the booth with Steve in the diner. Y/N thanked the waiter when he placed down their coffees on their table. Y/N reaches for the cream and poured in the cup. Steve noticed she had her tank top and one of his flannels. Steve wore his blue tee and a grey bomber jacket. 

Steve grins.

“What?” Y/N peers up at him, grabbing the sugar and ripping it open with her teeth. That gave him the thought when she popped open button of his jeans with her teeth. 

“Nothing. Just...” He trails off, Y/N grins up at him with her her tilted down focused on her coffee. “You keep looking like that, you might get stuck with that look,” She says, Steve smiles at her and finally reaches for his coffee.

This wasn’t his usual thing. Sure, Steve brought women to his apartment, but he didn’t keep them for long. He wasn’t sure if he was keeping her or stuck with her. She just kept running into him. He didn’t believe in those things where you meet the one and you can’t stop running into places at the same time.

His mom had that with his father.

But he didn’t believe it. He just might, though. “So,” Y/N spoke up, shuffling in her seat, “I believe I haven’t had a full conversation from you. So, this will be a social experiment.” Y/N leans and squints at him, “Where were you born?”

“I was born in Brooklyn, New York, 1981,” He says, “You?”

Y/N leans back, “I don’t remember. My family moved a lot.” 

Steve picks up his coffee, “Well, you’re not getting far with this social experiment.” Y/N tilts her head, “I’m serious. My family never really spoken about where we were living. But I was also born in 1981,” She replied.

Steve thought where she could’ve been born in. California. Maybe New Jersey. Vermont. She looks like she’s somewhere around Europe. Y/N doesn’t really have an accent to find out where she was from.

“Anyway, what’s your job?” She asked.

Steve sighs, leaning on his arms, his head thinking on how to word it. “It’s a company for research and tech in New York. You probably know the playboy, Tony Stark.”

Y/N nods, “Yeah. Heard some nasty things from others but go ahead. What do you research?” She asked.

Steve smacks his lips together, “Let’s see, anything that could be endangered or dangerous to the world. Our recent mission was escorting refugees back to their homes. We did solve a few world problems. But, we’re really just a couple of people who research and take small missions. I actually have to be somewhere in two days.”

Y/N pulls her hands to her face, lacing them together as she looked out the window. “You plan on returning?” She asked, Steve looks over and sees that her mood seemed to change.

But he couldn’t read it enough to know what she was thinking. Before he could answer, the waiter gives them their plates. Then they ate. It seem that the question was abandoned in thought as they laughed and talked more about other things.

Steve found out that she and her family had been all around the world. She knew a lot of languages, too. Y/N’s family was also part Native and he just couldn’t help but just think about her eyes.

Y/N grins and sees his face, “You seem content,” She says, stopping her conversation about her skiing trip. Steve shakes his head slowly. “What?” Y/N asked.

Steve saw it again. “Your eyes...” Y/N reaches up to her cheek and leans forward, “What about them?” She sounded self-conscious about them. “They just... They shine a bright blue sometimes,” He says.

Y/N reaches up to her eyes and nervously chuckles, “It’s a uh-...some disorder, that I have. I guess my natural color goes to a brighter color,” She stammers, “It’s weird honestly-” 

“No,” Steve cuts her off, “It’s beautiful.” Y/N lifts her head up to him and softly smiles. He smiled back and reaches over the table for her hand. Taking it in his. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so he reaches into his jeans and looks at his phone.

Incoming call. . . Natasha

Steve’s eyes narrow, “Sorry, I need to take this.” Y/N lets him go as he slides out of the booth and out the door. 

“Hello?”

“Steve, it’s been 5 days. Not to be pushy and mean but what’s your mother got to do with these five days? We’re starting to pack for this mission and you’re still not here. If you’re there for those things I-”

“Nice to hear you to. But look, Nat, my mother is more sick than you know,” Steve deluded, looking around the town to see people walk down the sidewalks. Car passing by.

“I don’t believe a word what Cap is saying, you know how bad a liar he is,” Steve hears Tony on the phone. Nat groans, “Tony, get off the damn phone!” Steve shakes his head at the man before Natasha spoke again. 

“Come home, you’ll only make this worse. They’ll come for you. For all of us. Please.” She pleads.

“You saying you’ll arrest me?” He inquired. Nat scoffed, “No. Did you hear arrest come out of my mouth, no- What I’m saying is, they’re gonna come looking for you ‘cause they know what you’re doing.” Steve looked around to see if anyone was watching him. If Natasha had been stalking him, she would’ve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nat. What I’m doing is a family emergency,” He says, “I’ll be there in two days. You’ll be boarding up the stuff, I promise I’ll be there.”

“Don’t make us come there ourselves. I know you, Steve. I read everything on your desk at the apartment. This is gonna get you arrested. Maybe they’ll put you in a hospital for Christ’s sake! People will kill you, that’s how Joseph died.”

Steve stops at that and instantly Natasha regrets it, letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, Steve. Just... please, come back. I don’t want you getting hurt in all this folktales.“ Who knew how much his team actually cared for his health. Natasha had always came to his aid. PTSD wasn’t no joke and she always was there when he needed it. Which is why he had her on speed dial for these things. She cared. But she didn’t believe him on this one.

“I should be the one to bring these things down,” Steve says.

“Why?” 

“Because I’m the one least likely to die trying.”

.

Natasha hears him hang up and she pulled her phone away, “Shit.” Sam and the rest of the team stood out in front of her along with two agents in dark suits. “Did he tell you to stay out of it?” Sam asked.

Natasha ignores Sam and looks over to Phil Coulson who nods, “Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. We’ll be sure to bring in Rogers in time for your flight to Australia.” Nat watches as she sees him walk away with a familiar face when she worked in their division.

Her brown hair bounced on her shoulders as Phil takes her out of the building. “I’m sending you and Agent 13 to Oregon. I gotten the information on his mother, we call her, we might just find him at the right time and right spot. Keep your distance. Watch him. He’s gonna get further than anyone else.”

“I might need assistance on the trucks. We’re not sure what we’re handling at this moment,” She says, accent thick and determined. Phil walks over to the car and nods, “Will do. I’m counting on you, Miss Carter. Bring him and those things in.”

“I know in my mind, he’s not in the right place. I know him better than anyone else. How do you want this to be handled?” She asked, Phil opens his car door and glanced over the car roof and smiled.

“You catch them. Don’t play nice. If he resists the action, I would start losing deep feelings for him and don’t play nice with him either. Give them hell, Margaret.”

The woman watched Phil leave the lot with his car and she stood there, the long nervous stare. Her fingers rubbing against each other nervously before she jumps into her car and starts it.

Posting edits a friend made for the series! 

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[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Blood Stained Name (AldoxFem!Reader)

Requested by @svonschroeder​

@owba-chan​ @inglourious-imagines​ @war-obsessed​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​ @frozenhuntress67​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the basterds or OUATIH taglist :)

You were, what some may call, a legend during the war. And like many other legends, you served as a warning to the cruel, and an idol to the just.  And, like any other legend, you were hunted. In fact, there was quite a large bounty placed on your head, complimentary of the nazi party.

Dead or alive. The only problem was...your name was unknown. Your age was unknown. Your nationality was unknown. Any general description of you was flawed, full of anomalies thanks to  fearful stutters and shudders. You made it known that you were helping resistances and rebellions throughout Europe. With that many allies, and so few clues, you were even harder to track down. The truth was, it was hard to hunt a hunter...because in spite of all you'd done for others, every rescue, every code, every message... your real gift was hunting. Nazi hunting, to be precise. So, with nothing better to go on than "nazi-hunter," you were dubbed 'Orion,' and filed as an enemy of the state. The Orion Initiative started in 1941: An extensive mission and intensive investigation aimed at tracking you down, led by your polar opposite, the Jew Hunter: Hans Landa. Rumors of the nazi hunting started just months after the nazi party took over... An official (though top secret) report was started in 1940, when the hunt was clearly more than just a rumor. An official investigation was launched in 1941. By late 1942, a group of nazi hunters was identified, and originally considered a set of 'copy cats.' The theory was struck down...and the group became known as the ‘basterds.' It was now 1944... The Orion mystery remained unsolved, making it the longest investigation Landa had ever been on. It was a record... Something he was not proud of. He had to solve it.... The only problem was he'd never seen such a clean trail...such meticulous murder... Nearly a perfect crime, every time. Just enough evidence left behind to drive him insane, and just less than enough to piece anything together. It was done on purpose. It was a mockery, and he knew it.

What he didn't know was your name... In fact, nearly no one knew it. The French Resistance knew you as Anaïs Bellamy, a saving grace. To the Soviets, Tatiana Zima. To the Belgian Resistance, you were Cassandra Willems. But that was as many names as Landa could collect (through the most heinous means). Neither of them were legitimate, and all of them led to dead ends. You were a myth with a thousand names. Faceless, but full of lore. Each resistance that knew you, knew you as a hero. Nothing more, nothing less. Each nazi that knew you, never saw anything again. To the allies, you were an asset. To the nazis, you were a faceless, nameless menace. To Hans Landa, you were an abomination, and an embarassment. He would uncover your name and face,  and close that case and file, if it was the last thing he did.

He swore that he'd find you. You were just like him at the end of the day. You used the same strategies, same intimidation, you played the same game... Of course, you knew that. And it drove you crazy. Because you wanted to be nothing like him... Nothing like your father. Unaware of your million names, you were simply Y/n to him. His daughter.  To you, he was simply a nazi. Dead to you, the moment he first put on his SS uniform... But he didn't know that. He was too busy with work, and you didn't quite mind your game of cat and mouse. You liked driving him crazy without him even knowing. As he worked overtime trying to find a single connection, you smirked, as he rattled on and on about names and clues. He’d never been so frantic over any case before... Every once in a while, you’d throw him a bone. A useless, broken bone, at that. A puzzle piece to a puzzle without a picture.  Still, he’d smile at you, the only thing in the world he had, and sighed, “Danke, Y/n...” Y/N.  Very few people knew that to be your name. And one yank hillbilly by the name of Lieutenant Aldo Raine knew it.... 

By accident, of course. He never quite had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but he did know enough of your friends in the resistance, and as a basterd, he was privy to some information most people weren't. It was rare, but he somehow connected the dots. He saw one of your identifications. One of the many.... He may have been a bootlegging redneck from the humble Maynardville Tennessee, but he was no idiot. And he practically had a photographic memory.

There were faces he never forgot. And yours, on those fake French papers, was one of them. Your name stuck with him... Your name....the thing you hated most about yourself.  "You're so much like him!" "Same eyes!" "Same brains, too!" You forced a smile through it all. You couldn't take much more of this. You were trapped in a crowded lobby, in a cinema, surrounded by your enemy. Your name... This was the exact reason very few of your allies knew your real name. They equated you to your father. They were suspicious of you, a possible double crosser... It took so much to convince people of your true colors. But...you couldn't blame them. You still carried all the blame of your father's sins. You didn't think twice. You just fought. And you fought the urge to cry and scream, and burn the place down in that moment. Landa was a blood stained name, and there was nothing you could do about it... You sighed, as your father interceded, accepted compliments on your behalf...and proceeded to encourage you to mingle. "I want grandchildren some day." It took every ounce of you to brace yourself, and remind yourself that there was already a plan for the night. You forced a smile as you lost yourself in the crowd, away from him, and leaned over the railing of the second floor, watching the final night of your life come and go, there at the Nations Pride premier. ******** The war went on, and the basterds built up a way into Emmanuelle Mimeau's cinema: Operation Kino. Along the way, Bridget revealed she had eyes on the sinde of the regime....and the theater. She showed the basterds the picture of her spy.  A 'darling little thing,' as she held up a newspaper clipping. A daughter of a renowned nazi officer. A face Aldo recognized.... but no... It couldn’t be... He’d believe it when he saw it. And there you were, in the lobby with the rest of the nazis, for the premier of Nation's Pride. Aldo spotted you from across the room as he walked in with Bridget, Omar, and Donny. He was caught off guard, seeing a legend like you in person was almost like seeing a ghost story come to life. He whispered with astonishment, "Y/N Landa." You had spotted them from a mile away, on the second floor, as you leaned over the rails. You smiled, having learned to read lips long ago,  as you looked Aldo in the eye. You knew time was running out. You knew Operation Kino in and out. It was a sign of the times...so you may as well have fun with what you had left of it. You winked at Aldo, and blew him a kiss. He was flustered for a split second. 

Donny snickered, Omar smirked, and Bridget looked away, blushing as she giggled. Only moments before the boys could make their way to you for last minute updates, they ran into a little problem. Your father. ....Still, Aldo smiled and nodded snarkily as he made conversation in an embarassingly tragic excuse for Italian. Aldo couldn't believe it.... Hans Landa had no idea who his own daughter was. **********1943*********** "Monsieur Raine, you've just missed her!" The Basterds' contact in the French Resistance, Etienne, chuckled. "Who?" He smiled, "Your counterpart. Orion." Donny raised his eyebrow, "You said 'her'?" Etienne nodded, "Her." He held out a copy of your resistance identification. Aldo held the paper, and looked up, "Orion's a woman?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the fake name: Anaïs Bellamy. Hirschberg leaned over his shoulder, inspecting the documents... a bit disappointed, having hoped that Orion was an American. Etienne rolled his eyes, "German. Y/n Landa. One of the best we got." Another resistance fighter smiled as he cleaned nazi blood off his guns, "Good kid. Good aim. Fast runner." ---Meanwhile--- "Verdammt. Verdaaaamnt. Verdamnt." You muttered under your breath, as you climbed through your bedroom window, threw off your bloody, war-torn clothes, and threw on something presentable. You quickly glanced into your mirror. You popped your thumb in your mouth, and then wiped away some blood from your cheekbone. Your hair was a mess, and you looked tired. Perfect. You practically flew down the stairs, and rushed down the halls. You had a job to do in Paris. You couldn’t exactly waste time conversing with that fiend that dared call himself a father.

But you were stopped by an old familiar voice. "Another bad night, liebling?" You sighed, and shuffled toward the doorway in the dining room. "Ja..." Your father sighed as he put down his newspaper, and looked at you, as he smoked his pipe. He shook his head, and went on about being worried, and telling you for the millionth time that you should see a doctor. "No, but I-" "Your grades are slipping! Don't think I haven't noticed." He grumbled a little.

"I'm still graduating next semester." "You're still seeing a doctor." "But-" "Tomorrow morning." "But." He raised his voice, "Case closed." That was it... 

Once Hans Landa said 'case closed,' he meant it. ************************ The night went on, as expected... Mostly.

As he interrogated Aldo and Smitty, he expected he had it all figured out. "What shall the history books read?" Aldo raised his eyebrow, "Yeah? An' what about Y/n? Ain’t that kid still in the theater? Be a shame. Ain’t that right, Utivich?" Utivich smirked a little, “Yes, sir.” Landa stopped smirking... His face grew spiteful, his eyes narrowed with the intent to kill, "Tell me how you know my daughter's name or I swear I'll send word to the theater, I'll have the rest of your men shot, and-"

"Relax Landa. I know all my associate's names." Landa shook  his head, "Associates?" He smiled, thinking he had it figured out again, "She was infiltrating your basterds, and didn't tell me!" He grinned, "I tell you, that girl is just like me. That's it, isn't it?" Aldo smirked this time, and shook his head once, "Nope." Landa's face fell. If looks could kill... "So you either make that there deal, or not. Y/n is my man on the inside. And ain't no way you takin em boys out without settin' em bombs off." Landa left the desk, and immediately sent orders out for you to be found, and escorted directly to him. Then he took the deal with the general.  He would deal with you later. He couldn't tell if what Aldo said was true, but he desparately hoped it wasn't... and even more so, he wanted you out of that cinema. As Smitty and Aldo were escorted onto the truck to be taken behind allied lines, a nazi ran up to Landa with some news. You were not found... He was silent for a moment, and looked down as he nodded slowly, bracing himself for the possibility that you never would be found. Perhaps, you'd gone out for some air. Maube you'd gone home, and finally got some sleep. Or you went out looking for your dear old dad... Maybe....maybe you'd met someone worth loving there, a high ranking officer. (You had...but Aldo wasn't exactly the man Landa had in mind for you.) "Sir." Hans snapped out of it, and nodded as he made his way to his seat. Everything went well...too welll... The next thing he knew, Aldo had carved a swastika onto his face, and as he screamed in agony, Landa saw a nazi truck pulling up.  A hijacked one. One with three familiar faces. Two basterds, and a hunter.

Landa was a smart man, but, his hope and sentimenatality won out for once. He believed for a few moments you were there to save him, that you'd apprehended Donny and Omar, and you'd given him a fighting chance. You were just like him, after all, all the people said so. Maybe you'd be a double crosser, and help him. But you didn't. As blood from Aldo's mark dripped into Landa's eyes, he looked up at you, betrayed for a moment. Then....it all came together. He pursed his lips, as he pieced every single bit of evidence together.  You knew things there was no way for you to know. You had been right under his nose all along. It had been the perfect place to hide.... He gave one psychotic smile, as he watched you raise your pistol, and aim it at him. "I knew you'd outsmart me some day." You heard Aldo step up from behind you, "Y/n...he's still your father. We can take care of this." Landa, at the moment, was truly intrigued at what would happen next. But you didn't put your gun down. You shook your head, not even looking at Aldo. In fact, you looked at your ‘father’ the whole time.  You muttered, "I don't have a father." He seemed betrayed again, for an instant, but then again, you were just like him. A double crosser with a mission. He nodded. He smiled as he nodded.

He accepted it... You were just like him, after all... And he finally had an answer to the Orion Initiative. It would remain unofficial, and lost... But the case was finally closed. To him, at least. The Orion Initiative had an answer. It had been right under his nose, all along. He really was impressed, and psychotic as it was...he was proud of you. But the feeling was not mutual. You knew even after all that, he wasn't sorry. And the guilt of the nazis had done would forever weigh on you...So one less nazi in the world, one last hunt was all you could ask for. The war was over, but at that moment, there were things you and every other resitance, soldier, and victim would never forget. This was it... He smiled, and shrugged, "Case closed, Orion." You pulled the trigger. At that moment, there were thousands filing into streets, drinking, celebrating, dancing in the streets.... But when the confetti was swept up, and the soldiers went home, and the toppled regimes’ dust settled...everyone would have somewhere to go.

The gunsmoke cleared, and you took a breath, for the first time in a long time. You lowered your shoulders, and unclenched your jaw... For the first time in a long time, you could rest... But you had no place to call home. No one to call your own, in spite of the thousands that knew you, your face, and your story, few knew your name... Even fewer knew you. But you felt a hand on your shoulder, and a soft voice with a strange accent. "Y/n..." And you turned to see a warm smile, and kinder eyes: Lieutenant Aldo Raine... But he'd tell you you could call him Aldo, later that day.  And your world turned upside down. "Well...” He put his hands at his hips and sighed as he smiled at you, “You ain't part of the deal, Orion, and I sure as hell am gon' get chewed out for this...but I think we'll find somethin' for ya." You smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time... That was the first, honest thing you'd heard in longer than you could remember... He took your hand, as you walked with the basterds to the west, to the general, and to freedom. As you smiled at Aldo, and he smiled at you, you knew you were going somewhere safe, somewhere far. Perhaps on a mountain, somewhere in the middle of Tennessee. It wouldn't be like the mountains in Austria that you knew, but, a kinder place, one far from war, and farther from your memories of it. There in Aldo's eyes, you found something new as the sun began to rise in the horizon. A beginning... A place to call your own, a name without a blood stain.

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #aldo raine #aldo the apache #aldo raine x reader #hans landa

[goaskxlys]

Option 1: we’re looking to highlight the differences between your canon mythology character and the oc you’ve created and built around them. for side a, include songs that apply to the myth, for side b, songs about your own character

EVIL WOMAN: Alice Alderman Playlist

Hey woman, you got the blues 'Cause you ain't got no one else to use

Side A: Lyssa

A little wicked- Valerie Broussard

One of these days a-coming, I'm gonna take that boy's crown There's a serpent in these still waters lying deep down To the king, I will bow, at least for now One of these days a-coming, I'm gonna take that boy's crown

Crazy Train- Ozzy Osborne

Inheriting troubles I'm mentally numb Crazy, I just cannot bear I'm living with something that just isn't fair

Crazy on You- Hidden Citizens

Wild man's world is cryin' in pain What you gonna do when everybody's insane? So afraid of one who's so afraid of you What you gonna do?

Hit and Run- LOLO

You poured the gasoline and I drove into the flames History will hate us But they'll never forget our names

Pit of Vipers- Simon Curtis

I can almost feel the tick like clockwork Hearing all the voices in my head each time I go There's a game they play that I'm not part of Tearing at the weaknesses and all the faults they know

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing- Set it Off

Baa baa, black sheep, have you any soul? No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals? Jack be nimble, Jack be quick Jill's a little whore and her alibis are turning tricks

Don’t Mess with Me- Temposhark

Cause all your heads are gonna roll I've made your misery my goal So if you want survival, kneel on my arrival This is how I rule the world

Bury a Friend- Billie Eilish

Say it, spit it out, what is it exactly You're payin'? Is the amount cleanin' you out? Am I satisfactory? Today, I'm thinkin' about the things that are deadly The way I'm drinkin' you down Like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me

The Devil Within- Digital Daggers

I'll be here When you think you're all alone Seeping through the cracks I'm the poison in your bones

Savages- MARINA

Were we born to abuse, shoot a gun and run Or has something deep inside of us come undone? Is it a human trait, or is it learned behaviour Are you killing for yourself, or killing for your saviour?

I’m a Psycho- Clooney

I'm a psycho, I do what I like oh, I got one loose screw, better watch your back. I'm a psycho, You can't deny no, I'm as crazy as a daisy, and you're under attack.

Paint it Black- Hidden Citizens

I look inside myself and see my heart is black I see my red door and must have it painted black Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

She’s a Bad Mama Jama- Carl Calrton

Looks like she's poured into the gold She's bad The essence of beauty

Control- Halsey

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Evil Woman- ELO

You destroyed all the virtues that the Lord gave you It's so good that you're feeling pain

Freaks- The Hawk in Paris

We’ll have you wrapped around our trigger finger Queen bee yellow, you’re the skin for our stinger We’ll make you swoon, make it hurt just a little We’re the boys and the girls and the freaks in the middle

Side B: Alice

Super Freak- Rick James

She's a very kinky girl The kind you don't take home to mother She will never let your spirits down Once you get her off the street, ow girl

Stayin Alive- Lizzo

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman, no time to talk Music loud and women warm I been kicked around since I was born

Cold as Ice- Foreigner

I've seen it before, it happens all the time (Ooh-ooh) You're closing the door, you leave the world behind You're digging for gold, you're throwing away (Ah, ah) A fortune in feelings but, some day, you'll pay

Bad Girls Club- Falling in Reverse

She's like a witch, casting spells, hypnotizing She made me drink a potion just to fall in love She got me drunk, tipsy off her love

Creep- Daniela Andrade

I don't care if it hurts I want to have control I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul

Kiss the Girl- Chase Holfelder

But there's something about her And you don't know why But you're dying to try You wanna kiss the girl

Good Girls- Elle King

I can take you down when the damned get wild There's a whole lot of sinning but they're greener for miles Three hits on the 6, there's a number that you dial You can be like me but I'm a real brat child

She’s Kerosene- The Interrupters

She's got a history of making a scene, yeah She's telling stories she’s gaslighting Like he's the executioner and she is the queen But he's the one whose neck is in a guillotine

Seven Nation Army- DMNDS

Don't want to hear about it Every single one's got a story to tell Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell And if I catch it coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you

Bad Girls- Donna Summer

Bad girl, sad girl You’re such a naughty bad girl Beep beep, uh-huh

Trouble- Natalia Kills

Happiness is just a glass away, I'm trouble Breath me in, like the summer nights It's only a mistake if we don't survive Kids grown up, but we're not alright, we're trouble 

If I Killed Someone for You- Alec Benjamin

Would you turn me in (Would you turn me in) When they say I'm on the loose? Would you hide me when (Would you hide me when) My face is on the news? 'Cause I killed someone for you

Upside Down- Paloma Faith

Ain't got no cares (ain't got no cares) I ain't got no rules (ain't got no rules) I think I like (I think I like) Living upside down (living upside down)

A Little Wicked- Valerie Broussard

I'll be high up in that tower, he'll be down there getting stoned Beware the patient woman, cause this much I know No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne

These Boots are Made for Walkin- Nancy Sinatra

You keep playing where you shouldn't be playing And you keep thinking that you'll never get burnt, hah Well, I've just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah And what he knows you ain't had time to learn

You Drive me Crazy- Britney Spears

You drive me crazy, I just can't sleep I'm so excited, I'm in too deep Whoa, crazy, but it feels alright Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

#theikostask #theikostask01

[multimetaverse]

Do you think the bad writing/restrictions on Tyrus in season 3 spoils what they did in season 2? Like I feel Disney allowed way more in season 2 both in terms of making the subtext obvious/having a proper flow/let Cyrus talk about moving on from Jonah ect, even before the lookback. Season 3 for me has been such a let down

For me personally it doesn’t spoil Tyrus but it does make me sad because as I’ve been re-watching eps 2x01-2x13 it’s been extremely apparent that Terri had much grander ambitions and that Disney hadn’t stopped her yet. I feel sorry for Terri and the cast and crew because there was so much great set up for canon Tyrus in S2 and nothing has really happened in S3 and nothing will until the final minutes of the series. I’m sure Terri would have done things a lot differently in S2 if she had known that Disney would restrict her so much; no second Ciris kiss, no set up for Cyrus to come out to his parents, no TJ look back that edited or not might as well never have happened. 

The biggest difference I’ve noticed is that in S2 there’s a sense of momentum for Cyrus’ arc, there’s definitely censorship and it’s spaced out, but things do move forward: he accepts his sexuality with Buffy’s help, breaks up with Iris, gets to know Jonah the man not the myth and views him more as a friend and becomes friends with TJ and begins to view him as something more. In S3 he doesn’t really have an arc and all that’s really happened for Cyrus is the gun plot and coming out to Jonah. In S2 Cyrus didn’t get to discuss his feelings all that often but at least periodically he could talk to Buffy about his feelings for Iris or Jonah but in S3 the first time we’ll hear him confirm aloud that he has a crush on TJ is the series finale. It’s sad for the show of course and for the audience but it also makes it seem like in universe Cyrus doesn’t trust Buffy like he did in S2. 

And TJ was pretty important in S2; he drove a lot of plots for a recurring character and got great character development. There was momentum to his arc. His story was written to make sure that he would be at Cyrus’ Bash Mitzvah and then with the goal of leading to his redemption and what was supposed to be an unambiguous look back. In S3 it’s just been constant stalling because he’s supposed to be Cyrus’ love interest but he’s not allowed to actually be his love interest until the series finale and his story was written to ensure that he wouldn’t be at the original wedding.  In S3 with the exception of the gun plot he’s just been there for fluffy or angsty filler. It’s hard to imagine with the restrictions on TJ’s screen time and on what kind of scenes he can have with Cyrus that Terri would be allowed to do a story line like his dyscalculia story line in S3 or even scenes like the first swing set scene or the somersault scene.

Disney obviously bears the vast majority of the blame but Terri does bear responsibility for the awful writing for Tyrus since 3x13. She has no excuse for even attempting an internalized homophobia plot line on a show with this many restrictions and with a character who most of the audience doesn’t even know is gay and won’t know is gay until the bench scene.  And even among the minority of the audience who does know that TJ is gay, not all of them even understand this story line, like the anon I got recently who thought that this was just a case of a jock being wary of having a close friendship with a nerd. If Terri had never gotten approval for the bench scene then this story line would have been pointless since TJ’s sexuality would never be confirmed but getting the bench scene approved also means TJ needs to be confident in his sexuality which still makes this story line pointless. 

It would be one thing if like the dyscalculia story line it could show kids how to deal with things they might be going through but most of them don’t know what’s going on with TJ and the show was never going to be able to show him overcoming his issues so we just magically see him acting normally again in 3x18. There was nothing to hint at this story line before 3x13 and 3x18 and 3x20 show TJ acting the exact same way around Cyrus as he always did so it just comes off as incredibly bad writing. Not to mention that Kira’s character is the most poorly written we’ve seen on the show; she goes from wanting revenge on Buffy and a way onto the boy’s team but then swings to wanting to try and date a guy she knows it gay which is insane. And 3x15 was really the worst written TJ has ever been; he was passive, willfully blind, and generally just being a bad friend to Cyrus. I’m sure 3x20 will be a very happy ending for Tyrus but it does suck that the end of 3x13 and 3x15 will just have to be ignored if Tyrus ending up together is to make any sense. It may have been a long slog to get here but history is being made and the next time some show writes lgbtq youth story lines they’ll be able to go further than Andi Mack ever did thanks to Andi Mack opening those doors. 

#Andi Mack #Tyrus #Cyrus Goodman #TJ Kippen #Andi Mack Asks #Terri Minsky #Andi Mack Season 3 #Andi Mack Season 2 #Asks #Answered #Andi Mack Meta

[crown-eater]

Fluoridated Urethane Crisis Kismet

The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Uptake Table of Contents

“--And here, you see?”

‘Choly held out his reader across the coffee shop table from his boyfriend, to show a bad quality photo from a security camera. The scrawny, bespectacled punk retracted it shortly after and huffed, doing a split-screen to pull up a different bad quality photo side to side, and re-offered it. In one photo, a figure in a dull hoodie with the hood drawn glanced behind him with the intent to steal a jug of fabric softener. In the other, a figure in a long dark grey coat lined at every seam with reflective straps had a slicked back undercut and one eye.

“Photo of the Geek in the Level 5 Greeley’s last year. And a still from one of last week’s EPA press conferences. The specialist’s the Geek! No way that isn’t him.”

The typical soft cyan ambiance of charged Wolfram concrete surrounded them at their window table. Cecil shifted in his seat, and looking into his lidless pumpkin spice latte, his tattoo-sleeved arms rested his weight against the tabletop. He pursed his snakebitten lips tight together, and began to rub at his forearms. An observer wouldn’t think the two had a thing in common, down to looking like they came from entirely different decades. ‘Choly was the openly obsessive one, androgynous with long dark bangtails and a dayglow goth-punk sensibility, porting all manner of splints and braces. Cecil had about him a tailored rockabilly vibe, sporting a brassy short pompadour with a roll-cuffed button-down, suspenders, and drainpipe trousers. Just as much, Cecil didn’t want to find correlation in those two photos presented to him. He didn’t like the supposition that this mystery figure was the Supermarket Geek. But, he couldn’t deny shared features.

“I still don’t know how that busted-up six-year-old reader even connects to the Web...”

“Why’re you always raggin’ on it?” ‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane beside him and surreptitiously slipped out one of the vials of vodka inside it, to doctor his black coffee. He sipped it down a bit to make more room, then grinned to himself as he put the tippling cane back together. “I told ya before why I hadn’t upgraded. Does everything I need it to. Like show you photographic evidence I’m right.”

Cecil’s brow knitted at the device in front of him, trying to overlook that his date was sneaking alcohol in a place that didn’t serve any.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but...”

“What?” The steam on ‘Choly’s circle-frame glasses vanished as he lurched nearer with a saccharine smile. “Y’know something about that ‘specialist’?”

“Sort of. How do I even put this? A lot of what I do isn’t just working on the equipment and tagging content in the Hub. It’s helping people research stuff. Showing them how to navigate information on the Web. It’s a lot of that, Central has most of the city’s servers. And there was a guy last year, he... came in asking about radiation poisoning. He was real upset, and in the process of trying to determine what kind of information he needed, I said something that made him just blurt out that he’d been in proximity to that... that blob thing. The thing that wrecked that chemical factory last year.”

“That thing was radioactive--!” The awkward nerd clapped a metal-stayed hand to his mouth realizing his volume, worried to disturb the other patrons. “That thing was radioactive? What put the specialist someplace to run into the mutant thing? The,” he mentally lapsed a moment, hung up on the word, viscously phlegmatic, “the larva. It... reminds me of a grub worm.”

“...You are obsessed with insects.”

“I know.” Another sniff, this time more to stifle mental wilding. “...Imagining it as a larva, I’ve always wondered what it-- might have turned into--”

“--Just let me finish.” The exact opposite, Cecil thought to himself, if only you’d let me finish. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “The blob thing had hid after busting up the factory, and as an off-duty cop, the guy trailed it hoping to get the authorities involved if necessary. But it turns out, the blob wasn’t just sentient, it was human. Was. And the way he put it, it was in pain like a lion with a thorn. Lots of thorns. But the swelled up masses started vanishing right in front of this guy. The thing was excreting metal from its skin, but it was having trouble and cried out for the guy to help it pry off the metal. The stuff hardened in sheets. Like a shell, I think he said. Soon the thing wasn’t swollen up anymore, and looked just like it could’ve been a teenager. It wasn’t until it was near-incapacitated afterward, just laying there exhausted, that it told the guy he’d helped it get half a ton of raw technetium out of its body barehanded.”

The librarian sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and partook in his coffee while it was still hot. The obvious mental pause drove ‘Choly insane. But after such an info bomb, the dreg’s bursting brain seized up and couldn’t just rattle off every question imaginable--so he gave his date the time to form the punchline to these grotesque descriptions.

“So yeah, ah. Of course the cop went to the doctor about it, but he couldn’t stop insisting in a post-traumatic fugue that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Wouldn’t elaborate what that meant, but he insisted he knew the kid meant no harm because he’s spoken to him. So this guy’s a cop, and he’s had a few run-ins with the Supermarket Geek on his beat. ...That’s the same kid. And that ‘specialist.’”

‘Choly paled in horror as he adjoined all the facts Cecil had just set out before him. In a ragged mental loop, beneath the table, he pressed and dragged a finger against the copper metallic leggings exposed through the holes in his ripped skinny jeans. He unstuck to grab the reader and open the video of the EPA conference he’d snapped the still from. A woman with dark complexion, in hazmat gear minus the headwear, stood in the middle of a cordoned off and heavily protected street, with a handful of EPA employees behind her.

“E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect the quarantine lines. The Agency--”

He skipped forward to where the press had begun asking questions.

“--dition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

An assortment of figures stood alongside her, but a few feet behind her stood a small, tailored silhouette which only in spirit felt like one could call it hazmat suiting. The figure visibly recoiled and drew the neon chartreuse hood which did not match the coat, and turned his face away the instant he could tell the live Web footage cameras had zeroed in on him.

“We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it.”

He rewound the clip to the half second right before the figure grew too camera-shy. He paused and stared at that face.

“The Geek’s... a meta...”

‘Choly had always struggled to hide his abrupt bouts of sexual heaviness in public settings, and here it escaped him in tone and in the choked exhalation which followed it. Metahumans were no longer some mere tabloid myth, cemented before him in reality by a circumstance of federal proximity. In his own city, where a radiochemical disaster was unfolding right beneath them all. His ragged unsteady breathing stifled him, and his hollow glare remained transfixed upon the reader screen at length.

"--How long have you known? I’ve been goin’ on about the Fulton Mass for months now.”

“I think it was August last year. I told the cop I wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, I don’t know if I like the idea of the EPA employing the Geek, if they’re calling him their specialist.”

Cecil almost shot off that he shouldn’t have said anything, in a playful jab at the reaction he’d elicited, but a woman approached them from behind ‘Choly and beat him to it.

“And just what do you know about the Geek, or the EPA?”

The heavyset Indian woman, wearing lavender makeup and business casual attire, with her bun in snood combs, stood behind ‘Choly with fatigue locking her gaze on Cecil. She held in her hand a frozen green tea. Cecil could see the woman’s federal ID badge clipped to her sweater.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“His name is Galen, you know. Galen Miner. And though he may no longer be human, he’s still a person.” She made a roundabout gesture with her drink before taking a sip. “Do you know why people call him the Geek? Because they think he’s a freak show. But he doesn’t eat chicken heads. He’s not a hybrid.”

“So you have hired him on with the EPA.” At Cecil’s comment, ‘Choly scrambled about face to put the voice to the figure, dumbstruck that this was the woman from the press conference.

“What he does eat is invaluable to us at a time like this.”

Unable to contain himself, 'Choly garnered Bensington’s line of sight.

“You’re feedin’ him the Quarter.”

“Galen’s an unfortunate case, but that’s nothing compared to the others.”

“--Others--” ‘Choly’s voice cracked unbearably, and he forced his legs crossed under the table and glared at Cecil, who glared right back at him, for some sort of mutual mental grounding. “O, others?”

“If you’ve been keeping up with the news about the disaster, you’ll recall how the affected Stalkers that have sought medical provisions keep getting turned away? It wasn’t their lack of documentation that denied them care. Medical training does not currently exist for what is happening to them.”

Fighting how this information affected him dulled his distracted eyes, and he trembled. The last thing he needed was to hear he was right about the chemical leaching at Level 1, but it was absolutely the first thing his degenerate brain begged to hear. He presumed she meant exposure to the chemical had reinvented the Geek. Though he failed at length to form a response, the look on his face said everything.

Cecil asked what he knew ‘Choly couldn’t spit out:

“What’s causing all this?”

Bensington shrugged and did her best to ignore ‘Choly’s demeanor.

“We aren’t entirely certain yet. We just know it’s extensive, and it’s not isolated. ...It’s late. You’re smart, the both of you. Nearly too smart. Putting two and two together, figuring out the correlation. You especially, young man.” She shook a finger at Cecil, then she set down her drink long enough to produce a business card from her cross-body back and scrawl on the back of it. “I could use some civilian input on all this. Until we get a chance to talk more in depth, I can’t have you mentioning this conversation to anyone, not even that it happened. But, if you could call me... Tuesday next week. Ten in the morning or so. Perhaps we could contrast anything Tri-City natives would notice against the Agency’s current comprehension of the situation.”

Cecil stared at the card as she handed it to him and picked her drink back up.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“I truly appreciate it--”

“Cecil.”

“Yes.” She nodded knowingly. “Cecil, I appreciate it. Truly. If you’ll excuse me, though. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ll have a good evening.”

‘Choly sputtered as she left the coffee shop. Her offhand comment regarding his perceived gender had left him stupid. The slight burned almost as badly as not having had the luxury of learning more, and only knowing Cecil would speak to here again, soon, calmed his nerves.

“Sorry about that,” Cecil started.

“You’re sorry?” ‘Choly waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Every shoe I own would’a been in my mouth by the end of it, if I’d been able to say and ask everything on my mind.” Feeling small, he nursed at his cheater’s black russian and looked up to his boyfriend, who now stared off into the room. “...You really gonna call her? Sounds like she thinks you really know a lot about this.” I really want you to tell me more. Everything you know. You have to.

“Dunno, I should.”

“Probably.” ‘Choly could tell Cecil didn’t want to talk about the Geek anymore at this point. With a detached sniff, he grasped for a momentary change of subject, and dove into the first thing that came to mind. “Cecil. Been tryin’ to build up the nerve to ask about it, bringing up the EPA video earlier. I... need your help. I’m havin’... a bit of trouble.”

Still fidgeting with the business card, Cecil shifted back in his seat, consternation mashing his brows together. From the conversation up to then, it was easy to speculate this kind of trouble might involve the law.

“I’m a librarian, not a magician, Melanochro. What makes you think I could help?”

“It’s money. Sort of. My money, any rate. My landlady’s evicting me if I don’t pay off my back rent by the end of the month. And before you go thinking I’m askin’ you to help me with my bills, that’s not even the thing.”

This offered Cecil no improved reassurance. ‘Choly swallowed, and continued.

“We’ve been... we’ve been going out for what, six months now? As it is, I spend a lotta time at your apartment, n’you at mine. It’d be cool if I...” Suddenly, words didn’t work, and he let his needful glance speak for him.

“Your job hasn’t been paying enough for you to afford the micro-apartment?”

“You say ‘your job’ like bein’ a sorter’s anything consistent.” The dreg laughed in weak anxiety. “By the time I moved out of my dad’s place, I’d started trying to be a little more proactive with my sorter’s skills. Bein’ a sorter doesn’t pay too much, but hacker intel? I’ve always tried to be savvy with what I put my hands on, before I scrapped it down to raw materials. The most recent thing I came across netted me a hundred-fifty, but that was a year ago. The sorter’s scene has been so dry for lucrative component handlin’, and you know my health doesn’t really allow for me resorting to truffling. Seekin’ stuff out on my own... I’m down to my last twenty creds. Last paid my landlady in June.”

“You should have told me sooner you were struggling so bad.” Cecil flopped down the card and looked at him with a square serenity. “I like having you there at my place. I don’t see why not. And you know what...” He trailed off a moment while he assessed logistics. “It wouldn’t be such a physically taxing thing, if you were to get a job at the library. I could pull some strings and get you working in physical copies with me.”

On the one hand, it relieved ‘Choly not to have met objection, but Cecil’s next logical step only served to chew the dreg up. In his mind, he was failing to keep face with this lovely guy he’d been seeing for months. Cecil had thought of ‘Choly as some exciting and mysterious element of danger in his life. ‘Choly admitting all he had, how not on top of everything he really was, it devastated the dreg. And the part that he had to disclose next, he squirmed.

“I, I don’t. I haven’t got papers. No social. Don’t you need that stuff to get a city job?”

“I could... tell Dave I’ve got it all taken care of, just need his clearance. I know you’re good for it. You’re smart, and for how glued to your reader you are, I know you love books--actual books. I’ve been begging him for over a year to find me somebody to help me in physical copies, to be honest.” Cecil smiled. “Somebody as passionate about it as I am.”

“You’d... do that for me?”

“I love you. I want you to be safe... and, well. Ok. I want you to be ok. And from what you’ve told me, you’re not doing ok. I think things will work out great. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Entirely true, though multiply-so. In order to have a safe place to live, he’d have to give this job offer a shot. Moving back in with either of his parents simply wasn’t an option.

“Say you’ll let me take you out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk about getting your place packed up, storage options, all that. Ice-99 sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bensington was right.” Cecil glanced at the card again to make sure he’d remembered the name. “It’s getting late. How about we cut out and call it a night? You’re free to crash at my place. You are moving in, after all.”

‘Choly took a hard swig of his black coffee, letting the vodka burn his nerves.

“I was... thinking more that we could go back to my place. Get an idea of what I actually need to bring with me.”

“You know more books always have a place in my apartment. And if you’re talking about that mountain of clothing by your bed, I’m sure we can figure something out.” The two exchanged a laugh, the tension softening as Cecil traced a finger against the back of one of ‘Choly’s wrist-braced hands. “I’m good with that.”

“Let me...” ‘Choly knocked back the last third of his drink. “Let me get a refill, and we can get out of here.”

“Room or no room?” Cecil ribbed as ‘Choly used his cane to get to the counter.

#the world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds #the uptake #fluoridated urethane crisis kismet #melanochro kara #george cecil #yvpraksya bensington #tfw you change one minor detail and it instigates a massive butterfly effect and you have a gerontion moment #let me know if the readmore is fucky. i can't tell wtf tumblr mobile is doing anymore

[onceuponakdrama]

Tale of the Nine Tailed KDrama Review

—

—

Bingo Card for Tale of the Nine Tailed

Synopsis: The mythical nine-tailed fox, or gumiho, Lee Yeon had to settle in the city many centuries ago. Able to transform into human form, he eradicates supernatural beings that threaten the mortal world. His real aim is to find the reincarnation of his lost first love. The talented television producer Nam Ji Ah works in a show that features urban myths. In the past, her parents were involved in a mysterious car accident and disappeared, and she suspects that Lee Yeon might be connected with this accident. The half-brother to Lee Yeon is the captivating Lee Rang. Despite being half-human himself, he harbors a deep-seated contempt for all people. For sport, he will unleash his seductive prowess upon his human-du-jour, by promising to grant them their wishes, only to trick them into paying a hefty price for their earthly desires.

Overall Main Plot: Rating - 7 out of 10 

Okay, I think the main thing about the plot is that it’s interesting. I’m not sure how to describe it, but it’s definitely an interesting fantasy drama with a different type of plot-line. The main antagonist is the Imoogi, but having a piece of the enemy within Ji-Ah really changed the game because now, it’s about history repeating itself and Yeon not wanting to kill her a second time and it was actually interesting to see it progress. I also loved the relationship between the characters, both the past and the present, and seeing how they play out. Whether it’s Rang and Yuri or Rang and Yeon’s, it’s interesting to see how it all comes together in a bigger picture and, again, having “history repeat itself.” But that being said, it was also super cliche—which is expected of a kdrama, but with the fantasy element, it’s even somehow more cliche with how things played out (just take a look at the bingo card because it shows). There were also a couple of other things that bothered me, regarding the main plot... 

Lack of Emotional Bonding - maybe it was just me, but I was not super invested as to what was happening throughout the plot. It just felt like I had a feeling how things were gonna play out, especially when a part of the Imoogi showed itself in episode 2. About the climax of the plot (when Yeon and the Imoogi battled and died), I was a bit surprised at his choice, but I wasn’t outright sobbing. But also, because of how many dramas I’ve watched, my word shouldn’t be taken for it. 

The Talupia’s Role - this lady.... knows all. But tell me why... she didn’t do anything to help them until the end and then she ended up being turned into stone. I just thought her role was interesting because it didn’t really help the characters until the end to help Yeon kill the Imoogi. While I liked her character (a strong woman who makes her own decisions), her character in relation to the plot felt so loose, even though she had a lot of knowledge that should’ve been shared. I don’t know; there are mixed opinions about her. 

Characters: Rating - 8 out of 10 

↣ Lee Yeon [played by Lee Dongwook] - he really just ate mint chocolate chip ice cream all the time; I thought his character was really endearing, especially since he’s def the romantic type (considering he wanted for his love to be reincarnated for like 600 years). But there were a lot of actions that I thought did not match up with his character, like: the time he tried to push Ji-Ah away “for her safety” (yeah, because that always definitely will work better than communication..... anyways) or the time he told Rang he regretted saving him that definitely did not sound like a joke. Ugh, there were just minor inconsistencies with how he was supposed to be written as a character, but overall, I did like him and root for him considering how awful the antagonist is. However, there is a small note, which will be mentioned in the romance and additional notes section for later.... 

↣ Nam Ji-Ah [played by Jo Bo Ah] - I was annoyed with her character at first, but I realized that I really liked how she took matters into her own hands without fear. Her independence is something that shines throughout the drama: she can work independently, but knows when to ask for help and work with others. She’s also driven for her work as a PD about urban legends and really wanted to find her parents, as well as how it all worked together. My favorite moment of her is when she is in her “fear nightmare” (whatever it’s called) and she managed to get herself out on her own because she realized that it wasn’t right/real. While it may not seemed like she did much, you also have to remember this is a fantasy drama and she’s just the human and realistically speaking, what power do you have over a literal deity? I also want to add she did less as the drama went, but she still handled things well after they played out rather than be completely helpless, so I’ll give some props to the writers for that. 

↣ Lee Rang [played by Kim Bum] - okay, why is he the soft bad boy with a dark past that we’re all in love with? I think all the viewers can agree with me that Lee Rang is just... it. I believe it’s his comeback drama after five (ish) years and he did a fantastic job with this character. His character is probably the most complex in the drama, especially since he’s got abandonment issues and still wants to be loved. I think the only time I was close to tears was when they decided to kill him off to have Yeon return. I don’t know how to describe it, but he really stole the hearts of many with his heart of gold. He just has some issues he needed to resolve and we were all rooting for his redemption, only to be disappointed as he died off. 

↣ Imoogi (also called Terry?) [played by Lee Taeri] - this man is completely insane. I think the actor did a great job with this character because this character... is so unlikeable, but it’s understandable as to where he lies in the main plot. Oh my god, when he said Ji-Ah’s supposed to be his bride to make him feel loved, I was laughing because he said the most cliche shit to her and thought he could just... manipulate and threaten her to like him. Like, sir... if you want to be loved, maybe don’t try to approach her that way??? But also, he doesn’t know better—literally, he’s part snake or something and it adds up. He was annoying as a character, but he made a great antagonist. I just didn’t really like how he was used to drag things out further because he really did not have... any redeemable traits. 

Personal Notes: I think one thing about this drama regarding the characters is that they all fit together in the bigger picture. It’s clear how they work together and how they don’t, and it’s satisfying to see how they all play out as the plot was further developed. I really do wish there were more scenes of just the Lee brothers, especially since Rang was so deprived of that as Yeon distanced himself without a real explanation to Rang. I also would have liked if Ji-Ah had more scenes with her parents, considering that she had been trying to find them for so long—only for them not to be at the wedding??? Only for Ji-ah to nearly die for Yeon again??? Only to have their scenes cut out more and more, even though they are so important to her character??? Writers, explain how these dots are supposed to connect. 

Romance: Rating - 7 out of 10 

It’s clear that their romance works in this drama. While I wasn’t super invested with their romance, I still found it cute because they did a lot of dates and actually progressed as a couple. I loved it when Ji-Ah looked at him when he kissed her and was like “don’t project your feelings from your first love on me because I’m Ji-Ah, not A-Reum (whatever the name of his first love was).” It only got better from there because they were actually getting to know each other and date (like NORMAL PEOPLE). I’m also giving them bonus points because they didn’t do that weird break-up sequence with a time skip during the duration of their building romance (I’m not counting the time he was gonna distance himself to help her because they weren’t officially in a relationship or the fact that he died and she was waiting for him to return because it’s not an actual breakup). 

However, I’m not a fan of the “dying for you” trope; that was one thing that rubbed me the wrong way because Yeon really died for her, only for her to offer herself up for his reincarnation (thank you Rang for stopping her). Another thing that really bothered me about them is the fact that Yeon fell in love with a child—not exactly a child, but: how do you fall in love with someone you watched grow up? I understand that because he’s a deity, he doesn’t age, but.... dude. A human? Really? (Goblin war flashbacks). Also, for a main couple, they were kind of boring. I mentioned it earlier that I wasn’t super interested in their relationship and that also made me tune out a bit during the main plot events (which is probably what made me less emotionally invested). 

Second Plot/B-Plot and Secondary Characters: Rating - 9 out of 10 

As I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t interested in the main characters as much. But the side characters made up for it, especially Yuri and Shinjoo’s side romance and their relationship with the kid, Suho. The whole mini family that Rang had was incredibly sweet, especially since he didn’t think he would have one and that drove him to live and I... (*screams into the distance*). I still can’t believe they wrote him to just die after all of that. Anyways. 

I was also interested in the other “fictional” characters around the foxes (the Snail Bride, Talupia and her husband, the nightmare lady) because of how their myths were going to contribute to the plot and the characters and such. They all had their own stories and how it impacts them because... they’re also people; they’re not human, but they’re still people with emotions, whether it’s love, anger, or fear. As for the humans, I loved the relationships and connections they had, especially those around Ji-Ah and their connections from the past. It was all super endearing to watch especially in the face of danger. 

Additional Notes: 

AGE - I mentioned it before, but wow, I’m going to emphasize it. The one major thing that bothered me is how Yeon fell in love with someone he watched grow up. It’s similar to how Goblin set it up, but.. Yeon met his first love when she was like... 9? 10? Essentially, she was a literal child and (as an education major who has to work with young children)........ I was just kind of bothered by that. I get that they worked around it by making them get together as she was older (25-30ish?) but when they did the flashbacks with her as a child, I felt uneasy all over again. 

“Plot Twist,” i.e., Ji-Ah being part of the Imoogi - I felt like I knew Yeon was the one who killed her in the past and felt like it was gonna come back, but I was surprised when Ji-Ah had a part of the Imoogi with her. I thought it was a smart move because it also builds tension between the three characters: who will die and who will live? In standard kdramas, they have the antagonist cut and clear and I thought it would be the same in this instance, but it was more clear as the drama went on. It’s less of a plot twist, since it was kind of built from episode 2-3 but it’s further explained to be a more standard “plot twist.” 

The Ending - I always have something to say about the end of dramas and most of them aren’t good, so... this drama is not an exception to this. I already mentioned how upset I am at the fact that Rang died for Yeon, but also Yeon coming back as a human made it confusing because there’s no way he would just be.. let off the hook like that, especially with the ending scene being that Yeon didn’t come back fully human? It was unclear. In my opinion, I felt that it would have been better if: one, he died off completely or two, the two would meet again later (an ending like Hotel del Luna, where they’re both completely human and have the stable life they dreamed of). 

Overall Rating: 7 out of 10 

Recommended? 

↣ Yes: this is a fantasy drama that had similar vibes to Goblin, so if you liked Goblin, this is probably a drama for you. The main characters also had a steady relationship building, with both making the effort so the romance aspect is a bit more top tier. It also incorporates a lot of Korean myths, so if you’re interested in seeing them, this drama would be a good recommendation. There’s also lots of twists (I don’t really know if you would call it that, but whatever) in the plot, so it always turns into unexpected directions that dramas don’t really go into (at least the ones I’ve watched). There’s also the theme of family, both biological and formative (less nuclear-family structure) that touches your heart a bit more too. 

↣ No: first of all, it’s a fantasy drama—it’s gonna have the standard issues with fantasy dramas: age gaps, lots of talk with other myths and the “balanced world and whatnot”, etc. It’s pretty cliche as well with lots of tropes that are problematic (as mentioned above). There’s also a bit of imagery that might be problem: there’s a few episodes with creepy themes, so you might have to skip out on it if you know you can’t handle look at it (like me). There’s also lots of death mentioned throughout the show, considering how one of the characters literally just mass murder people because he didn’t get things his way. This drama is a bit frustrating to watch as well, either because you’re not be as super invested in it or the characters might be too much or you can’t stand mint chocolate chip and watch the main characters eat it all the time. 

#tale of the nine tailed #kdrama review #kdrama recs #spoilers #mine

[behind-dark-hues]

Halloween; the predator became the prey.

Halloween. A celebration every human, from infant to adult, look forward to. A day, where you can peel off your everyday routine and just for a few hours, be anything you ever wanted to be. A doctor, an astronaut, even a zombie. The line goes on. There are unlimited choices to what you can dress into, a thousand ways to make that happen.

Every human could transform into their heart's wishes for just a day. Raven wasn't this lucky. Her choices were limited; she had only one. Dark eyes, dark wings, and scars. A demon from the underworld. Nevertheless, she had decided, despite every sensible thought that crept into her brain – screaming at her to renounce her idea – to go to the annual celebration of Halloween in the woods. What could possibly go wrong?

/Everything/. It was 10pm. Two hours before her transformation would take place and tear at her flesh. She had made a choice. Standing in front of her full-sized mirror, her reflection ironic. Two little red horns adorned her jet black hair, an equally-red tail with an arrow at the end of it placed where it was supposed to be. A painfully short dress, barely reaching above her knees, fishnets, and garters, all black, hugged her curves in the most mouth-watering way. She finished her look with the most important part of her outfit, those black Labouttines she paid way too much for. She was ready. Her blues skimmed her reflection one last time. She looked… Alluring. It was never good, not this close to her transformation. A malicious smile crept into the corner of her dark red lips, and that was her cue to go. 10:30pm. Raven was there. The forest looked eerily appealing to her. Every tree had those ornaments that barely lit the place, but made it look that much more mysterious. At the entryway were two large carved pumpkins. One with a sly expression, the other a kind one. She barely held herself from rolling her eyes. How pathetic they were, all of them. She walked past the improvised gates right into the party. Within seconds she found herself with a large cup of something – she didn't know the name, but the beverage smelled strong. Oh Hell, she thought, that couldn't kill me anyway. And with that, she downed half of it. 11pm.

A group of a witch, a skeleton, a vampire and a few other creatures she didn't get too interested in finding out what they were, gathered into a small circle in a desolate part of the forest, dragging her with them. So it was time for the horror telling, she presumed. Was she excited? Hardly. But she indeed had a good time. "Slenderman-" The skeleton mused, a smirk curling over his lips. The entire group did their part of oh's and ah's before he continued. "My friend got a glimpse of him once when he was walking his dog in this exact same forest. He was 15 at the time. First, it was just this feeling, as if he was being watched." The guy hissed, his entire body getting into the act. His friends sat closer to one another, their eyes attentive. "He couldn't really see him since he’s so tall – about 6 or 7 feet tall. It was dark, maybe just as dark as today. The wind wasn't really noticeable apart from the shriek that it made." And then, the wind /did/ this woosh and all the creatures in the circle held their breath. Raven just smiled. "John, my friend, could sense a presence. Lurking around the corner, eyeing him. But he kept going. And then - he could /feel/ something grazing his nape. A nail or, a branch?" The skeleton paused and looked at each and every person in the circle, pausing just a moment longer when he watched Raven. She arched a skeptical brow, which only determined him to go on. "He thought so, anyway. That it was a low hanging branch, from one of the trees. He laughed it off, a little nervously. John didn't believe those things, the myths told in parties like this one exactly. But he was fast to change his opinion when he saw /it/." The vampire girl screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped up from her seat, grasping her nape. She couldn't speak, just mumble hysterically. "I-I- Something touched me! I swear, I-" Her friend, the witch, patted her on the back, reassuring her that it was probably the wind or something, and she sat back down, closer to the witch. 11:45pm. Raven lost track of time, but the dull ache in her shoulder blades was consistent, hinting on her upcoming transformation. She stretched her shoulders back to suppress the pain. The guy went on. Suddenly she realized that something in his voice was painfully familiar, although she couldn't put a finger on it just yet. "Slenderman stood tall in a black suit, his face a blur, featureless. He had those long claws, which finally caught John by the throat. It didn’t even take him any effort to do so." Skeleton shuddered, causing the others to do the same. "There was a sound coming from where his mouth was ought to be, a silent grunt. It was inhuman, frankly. It said; answer. my. question." But the sound didn't come from Skeletons mouth, either. It came from behind them in a husky voice. "Or I will stick my fingers down your throat and pull your heart out!" The voice was now of a young guy, and he jumped at the group from behind, dressed in no other than The Slenderman. 12am. The entire group screamed and stood abruptly, hugging one another before they all fell into a fit of nervous laughter. That was her cue. She could sense her transformation beginning. She had no time to run, no time to save the kids. But did she even want to? They wouldn't live to tell what she was anyway. Raven fell to the ground, her entire body curling into a ball as her wings extended from her bare flesh. The black was in contrast with her paleness, but it was barely visible in the shadow the trees cast over her. Her eyes acquired their usual demon black, covering the whites and the blues of her eyes, and her flesh got all the scars she accumulated throughout the years, at last. She stood tall, deadly, and watched the costumed creatures run for their lives. /Fools/. As if that would help you now. A sly smirk coated her deathliness, almost as the sly expression on the pumpkin at the beginning of the night. She fled and tore at the skin of one, two, three and then four innocent souls. Wails were heard above the tops of the trees, although just for a few painful moments. Then it was silent, all at once. Her head sunk in to consume their blood, and when she raised it back up, her chin was smeared with crimson. She heard footsteps nearing. Raven didn't think twice as to who it was, her body flew gracefully and without any effort toward the skeleton, pushing him to the closest tree, her bloodied fingers closing in on his throat. "Raven." He whispered weakly from lack of oxygen. That voice – his voice brought her hand to loosen on his skin with a tremor, which gave him enough time to remove his mask. Her eyes widened in horror and she retreated all at once, stumbling backward. Dylan. She could barely breathe. Her hands flew to her own throat, covering it in crimson too. "This can't be happening…" She muttered silently, her voice a tad more terrifying than her usual one. He wasn't fazed. "Come back, please." He was practically pleading her, his feet moving one in front of the other on his way closer to her. His voice trembled. "Get back." Raven could manage a coherent response that never truly worked on him. He just kept walking, and she took a few steps back. The predator became the prey. "I will hurt you, Dylan. Get the hell back!" She screamed as loud as she could, tears she wasn't aware of having spilled down her bloodied cheeks. "Please…" Her back touched the blunt surface of the tree, just when he was an inch from her. Dylan's hand was steady when he reached up and caressed her scarred face, then her neck, then down to her supposedly heart. "Come back to me." He whispered. ------------------------ It was almost dawn. Her fragile body was encompassed in his strong arms. They were both silent, watching the sun rise slowly. It was a new day, her body was back to its normal state, but their feelings were a mess. He wasn't afraid of her. That fact drove her insane practically every time. He had the power to bring her back from the selfish creature she became each night, with just a word. What did he do to her? As if he could read her mind, his arms tightened around her in reassurance and she sunk into the embrace when he mumbled into her hair. "It'll be alright, beautiful."  

#Raven Bloom #self written #halloween #kill #demon girl #princess of hell

[cantstopthesignal2005]

kill yr gods

                                                 kill yr gods

              Anton Stewart sat transfixed by the panels of the graphic novel he recently checked out from the school library. The odd, melancholic spell cast by the kitchen-sink realism of the story was broken as his Journalism teacher, Ms. Combs, snapped her fingers.  “Anton. Anton! Excuse me! Hello! Thank you!”   “Yes, ma’am?”   “How are you coming along with your story? Kali needs it by Friday for the paper.” Anton looked over to Kali Wheatley, who sat hunched over with a large iced coffee, feverishly editing papers and adding comments.   “Uh, I’ll have a rough draft tomorrow, Ms. Combs,” he replied.    “Tomorrow? What happened to tonight?”   “I’m going to the concert tonight.”   “A concert? What?”   “The Canceled Alcohol show,” he brusquely informed her, his voice carrying an unmitigated bite to it. “It’s the concert I’m covering for the story. And since I haven’t gone to where the story is yet, I don’t have the story.”  Anton caught a few side-eyed glances and expressions of incredulity.    “Smart ass,” she blithely retorted. “See where that gets you in life. See where it gets you in school, or even in this class.”    Anton shook off his teacher’s cautionary attack with a brief, involuntary shudder. He returned to his poor posture and resumed the story. Comics were an integral part of Anton’s life. As a young child, he found solace in the altruism of the muscle-bound men and women who, burdened with great powers, sought to look after the meek and timid. He aspired to similar feats of greatness, albeit without any supernatural ability. Throughout middle school, Anton would obsessively write the phrase “I Will Grow Wings,” filling the lines of his composition notebooks. This was his mantra to remind himself of his personal endeavor to grow stronger and feel capable, soaring above his feelings of impotence. After discovering the cruelty of unprovoked violence and the ecstasy of masturbation, Anton rabidly tore apart the pages of his superhero comics, marking an estrangement from what he began to feel was the mythos of morons and losers.    Reality bloomed as Anton reached tenth grade, where he was fearful of the impending future and consistently horrified by the mistakes of the past. Without a car or a job, he didn’t have money of his own and would constantly depend on his mother for rides or pocket change, a chip on his shoulder regarding his own lack of agency had spread like a fever. The stories to which Anton gravitated were confrontational and brutal, concerning entropy, alienation, and depravity.  Unable to reconcile his anxieties and a lust for debauchery, Anton would vicariously approximate the insanity and genius of drugs by reading journals about the rough side of an acid trip at the devil’s hour.     The bell rang and Anton somberly ambled down the steps of building three to the courtyard. It was his lunch period and he planned to meet his friend, Peter. Peter was a friend whose binding tie was a similar love of literature and art. They would occasionally skip school and go to their local dollar theater and movie hop. Anton was unnerved as he saw Peter surrounded by people peripheral to their social circle, holding court at a brick wall, waxing poetic about the perils of too much vulnerability and compassion. He was wearing a black shirt with an image of Joe Strummer with bloodied knuckles and a towel carelessly draped around his shoulders. Peter looked over the circle of friends and nodded Anton over.  Characteristically overzealous, he extended his hand to shake Anton’s. “What’s popping, bruh?”    “I’m good. How goes it?”    “Yo, these are . . .  this is Larry. This is Dom. This is . . . oh wait, you know Chaz, right?”    “We’ve met,” Chaz curtly confirmed, gritting his teeth. Anton bristled at what he felt was an unmerited disdain.   “Uh, yeah. Uh, we’ve met,” Anton said, through staccato bursts of nervous laughter.   “What’s good, bro?” Peter asked, flashing his toothy smile, which appeared closer to demented than charming, as he hoped.   “Um. Just . . . just saying hey?”   “Well, you said Hey, kid,” Chaz said, rolling his eyes.   “I’m talking to Peter. If I wanted to talk to you, I would look at you. Chaz. Your fucking parents named you Chaz! What kinda shit is that?”   “You’re a fucking asshole, Anton.”   “Aight, aight, chill, chill.” Peter locked eyes with Anton and with a nod, dismissed him. Anton walked off, shaking with the rage of rejection. He fought the urge to, as he had when he was younger, scream, curse, and beat his fists against the ground into bloody pulps.  He wondered if remaining with his circle of friends was worth it.  He tolerated the occasional hectoring and outburst if only to stave off loneliness; his friends were a means to an end, and whether they knew that was unimportant. Anton was made to feel little, but always assured himself that they were even lesser than him since he never needed them.      The rest of the school day was an interminable slog, the only saving grace being that he would attend his first show later that night. As he approached the exit doors to the bus loop, Anton felt a firm tap on his shoulder. Violently whipping his head back, he saw his friend Alex, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Anton. Buddy. What’s up?”   “What’s up, what’s up?”   “What’s up. We were supposed to go to the diner, right? This is every Tuesday, we had plans, no?”   “Fuck, you’re right, I was just . . . it didn’t feel like a Tuesday.”   “Yeah, alright. So, we’re good to go?”   “Sure are.” The two walked over to the school parking lot, which Alex was grateful to have a spot in. He was the subject of great envy in their orbit for being the first to get a car, a job, and a girlfriend; there had been innuendos of him losing his virginity before his teen years, though no one asked to verify.  Alex’s relatively advanced social acumen inspired overzealous praise and myth making from his friends.     Alex drove at reckless speeds to Lynn’s Diner, a 1950s Americana themed coffee shop. There were black and white images from the days of yore for much of the wallpaper, framed photos of notable figures like Frank Sinatra and Benny Goodman occupying what little wall wasn’t taken by signs that said  “M A L T S,” “S H A K E S,” or “F R I E S.” Alex fiddled with the cylindrical straw container, delighting briefly in watching them umbrella.  The two walked over to a booth in the far corner, the seats cherry red, the table was eggshell white with sporadic bursts of dots making no discernible pattern.  Alex and Anton made it a habit to attend Lynn’s Diner every Tuesday at 3 PM, directly after school.  Tuesdays was when the waitress, Greta, would be working, and they were as much a part of her ritual as she was a part of theirs, having become one of her regular guests, to the point where staff would tease her about it. (“Hey Greta! Your boyfriends are here!”)    Alex and Anton waved off offers of menus, fully aware of what they wanted. Greta walked up to them, her hair a lot shorter than it used to be, dyed a fluorescent orange.  “Hey, loves,” she said, putting her hand on her hip. “Two doubles, no onions, extra cheese, pickle spear on the side, two cherry colas?”    “You practiced that,” Alex smirked.    “You know I did,” she smiled coyly.  “I ever tell you I was in theater?”    “No, but I saw you as Puck when you did Midsummer Night’s Dream with my sister, Shirley.”      “Your hair’s a lot shorter,” Anton abruptly remarked. Alex and Greta cocked their heads back, shocked by the jarring, unprompted comment.    “Uh . . .  yeah,” she said, visibly perturbed.  “Yeah, it is. I uh, I cut it . . .” She self-consciously primped the ends of her hair and shook her head.  “Uh, I’ll . . . I’ll be right back with your orders, love.” Alex shook his head disapprovingly, rolling his eyes.  Leaning in, he whispered, “Probably shouldn’t just like . . . shout something out while two people are talking. You know what I mean?”    “Yeah, but you said . . . you said it’s normal if someone like . . . it’s okay if someone inserts themselves into a conversation.”    “Yeah, but you have to know when to do it.”    “How would I know that?”    “Trial and error. This? Not the right time. Now you know for the future.”  Anton found himself resentful of the way people like Alex could float through life, aware of the right thing to say, when to say it.  He would often conflate their confidence and sociability with arrogance.  “I think I could get her number.”      “Isn’t she in college?”    “And you’ve never wanted to date a college girl?” Alex paused. “Or guy?”    “I mean, yeah. But guy or girl . . . I don’t think it would be, you know, appropriate.” Greta brought out their order on a plastic blue tray, forcing a grin. She dropped the order off and left without her usual parting banter.  Alex observed as Anton anxiously peered over to his watch.  “That’s maybe the third time I’ve seen you check the time since we got here,” Alex said, his mouth full of fries. “What’s going on?”    “Sorry. I have a show to go to tonight,” he explained.     “Who are you seeing?”     “Canceled Alcohol. I bought the tickets from Crates.”    “Crates . . .  Crates . . .  Crates, the record shop, Crates?”    “Yeah. Canceled Alcohol doesn’t really have a website or internet presence. I couldn’t cop them except locally.”    “I’ve heard of them. I know their shows are supposed to be like fucking super intense. I heard someone got knocked into a fucking coma there once.”    “Really?”    “This is what I hear,” he shrugged. Anton began to panic, his mouth drying up, his heart palpitating. He forgot to bring anyone for support to the show, and if he met harm as he was sure he would, there would be no help.    “Do you want to go?” he asked earnestly.  “I’m sorry, I should have asked you earlier. I can buy—”     “Nope,” he replied, unfurling a mischievous smile.    “Why not?”    “I think you should go this one alone. This one. I think, anyway.” The unspoken tension between the two was palpable, and so they completed their meal in silence. Anton became anxious with anticipation, expecting unspoken acts of violence to be visited upon him.  He’d realized that, upon stepping foot into the venue, he surrendered his control to the crowd and to the band; Canceled Alcohol was a band Anton was used to listening to at his own control.   He could turn their volume up, down, or truncate entire verses. The dynamic at the show would be diametrically swapped, his body now having to bend to the sway of the crowd and the ferocity of the band, which he assumed would be mighty; if his ribs were crushed, Anton was certain that the show would proceed without mercy.     Alex drove Anton home, generously playing Canceled Alcohol before ultimately deciding they “weren’t my cup of tea.”  Anton heard a vicious argument between his mother Marina and his brother Juan as he reached the front door. Knees shaking, he braced himself for the unfolding maelstrom.   “You’re a fucking cunt!” Juan yelled. Whipping his head back, he saw his little brother and dismissed him with wave. He returned to the object of his scorn and balled up his fists.  “You don’t have any idea what it’s like!”   “You still have to work, Juan!”    “Fuck you, bitch. I’m trying so fucking hard!”    “Smoking resin out of PVC pipes with your drop out buddies isn’t effort! You don’t do anything! I didn’t raise you like this!”    “You didn’t raise me at all! Abuela did! You lazy fucking bitch!”    “You’re so ugly . . .  you’re fucking . . . you’re just like him.  You’re stupid and you’re lazy. And angry. And you’re angry because you know there’s no place in this world for stupid, lazy people.” Marina shivered and shrieked as Juan tossed a cup of stagnant water at her. She stood, frozen with indignation. “I fucking HATE YOU!” Juan made a beeline for the door, shoving Anton against the wall.  Shriveling inwardly, he bit up the nerve to walk over to console his upset mother. Though Anton’s upbringing had been rife with turmoil, he failed to grasp the dialect of conflict and found himself at a loss for words. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking. “Sorry.” Marina, wearing the humiliation of disrespect by her son, looked over to Anton with a fury scorching her face, her eyes bloodshot, her teeth jutting out from her lower jaw like a diseased dog; Anton went pale, unable to find his mother beneath her anguish. He rubbed his chest softly, hoping to nurse his racing heart back to normalcy.    “I hate you!” she exclaimed. “You’re ruining my life!”  Anton was fatigued from the day behind him, unwilling to contend with the mercurial tempers flaring in his house. While times spent with his mother were not all bad, he was frightened by how swiftly she could vacillate between Victim and Tormentor, just as he towed the line from Caretaker to Whipping Post.    “Mom, I love you,” he said, disgusted at his impish attempt to placate her.      “Yeah, your kind of love I don’t need.”  She walked up their stairs, groaning.  Anton took note that it was an hour and a half until doors.  Despite having negotiated the ride several months prior, he was aware that it would take an immeasurable amount of consoling to get his mother to drive him there now. He’d considered his options briefly before grabbing his ticket and darting out the door to catch the number 48 bus going to Ardenton, a town he knew by reputation (their high school football team often beat his) only. The venue, he read on a worn and faded flyer, was The Empire, 1709 Waterhead Boulevard, Ardenton. (“Real Hole In The Wall Shit,” as crudely promised at the bottom.)  He looked for any signs assuring him that he was on the right path, to no avail. As he shuffled through the streets, scanning the buildings for addresses, he came across a couple adorned in pelts, leather, and chains, and summoned the strength to approach them. As he neared, his eyes began fluttering, much to their bewilderment.     “Excuse me,” he said, gentling his voice. “I was . . .”   “Speak up, youngin,” the older woman said.    “Yes, hi. I was um. I was seeing. I was. I was wondering if you knew where The Empire was?”    “The Empire? Is that a store?” she asked.    Her partner, a much younger woman, chuckled.  “No, babe. It’s a concert place.”    “I don’t know this shit.”    “Sweetie, you’re gonna go up a block and two over.”    “Oh, okay. Thanks . . .  thanks so much.”    “Who’s playing?”    “Uh, Canceled Alcohol?”    “Roughneck shit,” she grinned, nodding approvingly. “First show?”    “Yeah.”    “Fuck shit up, dude.” Her partner admonished her with a playful slap to the back of her hand. “Be careful!” she’d warned him, shaking her head. He politely laughed and walked off.      Anton walked the blocks and clocked the addresses, most of the buildings’ aluminum numbers tarnished or fallen off completely.  He was uncertain of the directions given to him until he noticed a procession of people walking in unison, murmuring amongst each other. Latching onto them, he made it to The Empire, a narrow building with a towering spire piercing the swiftly migrating clouds overhead. The marquee read: Princess Annie & Canceled Alcohol. 7 PM. Sold Out.    A few groggy, disgruntled men wearing shirts bearing the venue’s name set up barriers, prompting Anton to look at his watch; noticing it was a quarter to doors, he grabbed the ticket and felt his heart flutter. His stomach began to churn, his mouth drying, gluing his tongue to the roof. An older, obese man began tearing tickets and allowing people inside, nodding happily at each person. Anton was swiftly approaching the front of the line, and he excitedly handed his ticket and made a beeline for the door before the formidable man’s hand blocked him.  “Hold up,” he said, screwing his face. Anton felt innately that there had been a mistake, that he needed identification or a parental guardian, neither of which he had. “I gotta search you, first.” After a brief pat down, he was ushered inside. The walls were lousy with graffiti, faded stickers, and flyers from past shows. Stale cigarette smoke stuck to the walls as a reminder of past shows, the granite floor was sticky with the residue of spilled lagers. The air was thick and muggy, he struggled to catch a breath, which was exacerbated by the space becoming occupied to the point of congestion. Anton centered himself by navigating a way to the back, where there were life-size banners of Canceled Alcohol’s most recent album, Gag And Bind—a ghastly image of a dominatrix caving a hole into an old man’s head, bloody gray matter spilling onto the white backdrop, his eyes replaced with shimmering gold coins, his tongue hanging slack from his gaping mouth, spittle pouring out. As he looked at the sensational image, he felt immense feelings of guilt and desire, which he couldn’t reconcile. To his left, he saw two slovenly dressed young lovers under the spell of some dangerous pill they couldn’t pronounce, idly peeling paint from the wall, near catatonic.      A tap at his bicep sent him shuddering, spinning around rapidly which elicited a laugh from the two young women who’d tapped him. Dressed in mainly all black, with the exception of some red stripes on their track pants and the white pentagrams on their shirts, one had aqua blue hair which reached just above her hair, the other had bleach blonde hair, the left side of her head shaved entirely. They both donned piercings across their face, the woman with the aqua blue wearing a nose piercing with a chain that reached to her ear. “Hi! Can you take our photos?” He obliged and took a few pictures of them: them holding their hands above their heads, them hugging, them kissing each other, them confrontationally staring into the camera with stoic fierceness. Handing it back, he smiled. “Thanks so much!”      “Was that like, a photo set?”     “We just wanted some photos of like, gay love. We’re a gay couple . . .”   “Right.”    “And we just felt like this was our non-violent protest. This was us, showing we can be gay and feminine and super sweet and hardcore and we can also enjoy the music.  It’s not binary and we felt like it would be cool to show it.”    “It’s for a project she’s making,” her partner explained. “She’s trying to normalize gay love by documenting it in unconventional places. This is her part where she puts us in the middle of it.”    “I always show up in my art,” she said, defensive.  “It’s my art and, intentional or not, I’m gonna be in it in some way or another, I can’t emancipate my expressions from myself, so I might as well implement myself.”    “That’s fucking rad.”    “Are you here for Princess Annie?”    “Uh, no. Just . . .  just Canceled Alcohol.”    “They’re okay, we’re here for Annie, cause you know, they’re a really great part of the gay community in Seattle, so it’s kinda rad that they’re here.”    The lights dimmed and the background music stopped. Everyone did an About Face and directed their gaze to the stage, which was massively unimpressive, being composed primarily of driftwood, electrical tape, and worker’s spit. Feet began to stamp on the ground, and aimless cheering and applause erupted. Princess Annie took the stage and the lead singer demurely waved to everyone as her bandmates readied themselves and took their positions. “Hi,” Annie Sutton, the lead singer, greeted everyone. “We are Princess Annie. And uh, we’re very happy to be here, thanks very much for having us. Um. Do you guys mind if we fuck shit up?” Her facetious request was met with thunderous approval, a mischievous grin unfurling on her face. The bass and drums began rolling out, cymbals being hit with great ferocity and Annie began to roar the lyrics to their song, The Stranger. The words were fully realized as she threw her body into the anguish of the song, her torso contorting, her arms wrathfully throttling the microphone. The orchestral hook allowed for some time to beat the device into her head, a bloody gash opening as she shouted:  

                        If I catch you!                         If I ever fucking catch you!                         Death will be too good!                         But I’ll never be good!                         No, I’ll never be good!                         I’ll never be good again!                         I’ll never be fine again!                             Never go to bed again!                         Never again, not never again,                         Never again, not never again                         Not never-FUUUUUUUUCK     Annie motioned for the crowd to make way for her to descend downwards and she gracefully stepped down. Anton was taken aback at how readily the crowd parted as though it were the red sea. Annie sewed sutures on the wounds she opened every night she sang the song which she knew would keep her honest. They washed her bloody face with love and adulation, crying with empathy, holding her to keep the panic away.  She concluded the song by saying, off mic, “Thank You. Thank You So Much. I Love You So Much.”   Making her way back to the stage, she sat hunched over at the edge, breathing heavily into the microphone. “Hey, our set is gonna be like me, it’s a little short. We only have about five songs left. Then you guys get to see Canceled Alcohol!” She held for applause, which filled the room.  “You guys are gonna love ‘em. We’re so so so so so honored that they brought us out on tour with them, they’re so fucking cool. Really. They’re real roughnecks on stage but total sweethearts in person. They’ve even invited us to join their knitting circle.” Jessica, the drummer, etched a hammy smile on her face and played a rim shot. “This is our 49th state. First time in Florida!”    “I’m sorry!” one person yelled out, which received some chuckles from the audience and an admonishing finger wag from Annie.    “Hey now! We like it here. We like what we’ve seen. Well, we’ve only seen the inside of this venue. But, hey. It’s a nice venue. This uh . . .  this next song is called Stupid Bitch. It’s about white guys. And please, all white guys. Don’t get upset when we play this, it’s never a good look.”      Anton felt at home with the warmth of her generous stage banter. Everyone was experiencing exactly what he was, there was a truth to this moment in time and it was a sweaty, blood drenched woman believing in herself and engaging with four hundred disparate people. He knew he would never be alone if he remained in the comfort of human body odor and weed smoke. They soon left the stage which was to be empty for another forty minutes.  Then, the lights dimmed once again and the crowd showed their love by bleeding their throats dry. The band swaggered on stage, and simultaneously Anton was delighted to be in proximity to such greatness and crestfallen to discover that they were a little short and appeared to be unassuming men, ready to do their job. However, once the front man, Sean, looked out to everyone, his eyes were searing and demented, striking fear. He took the pulpit and delivered his sermon:

                                                Kill God if you feel like it,                         Kill me if you feel like it,                         Just make sure you know why,                         I’ll never be anything other than that which I am,                         I’ll only be a part of the plan,                         My body is a prison,                         Break me out of this prison,                         Take me out of this prison,     The fury of the crowd reached a fever pitched, everyone being pushed to the front and shoving elbows into each other. Everyone edged everyone else out and a swirling vortex of pain erupted, young men in cargo shorts performing spinning kicks, their chests slamming into one another. Anton was reminded what it was like to feel vitality coursing through his veins as he was pushed into a snake pit of antagonism. He recalled placating his mother, contending with supercilious teachers, recoiling from his brother’s wrath, and how tired of it all he was. Something atavistic responded to the busted, bloody lip he suffered. He found his voice in pushing back and visiting violence onto others and receiving it, becoming baptized by pain. He screamed until his lungs felt on the verge of collapse. He knocked his head into someone else’s and gripped the back of their neck, being met in kind with an identical grip.    “I love you!” he yelled, locking horns, knocking into him, shoulder first.    “I love you too!”     The ritual eventually petered out and the show concluded as plainly as it began, the band members departing with a cold casualness. Anton felt beautiful as he walked home drowning in a pool of collected sweat, the wind whipping against him as he shivered waiting on the bus.     Creeping into his room, Anton confronted the new, primal version of himself and noticed a congealed patch of blood on his face. Removing his shirt, he was thrilled to observe the black and blue tattoos he received. The bumps, bruises, and scars served as a reminder of the fight he had to keep in his heart to refrain from timorously occupying the fringes of life. Galvanized to report on the part of the world he just saw, he swiftly grabbed the composition notebook and a pen from the computer desk, his foot anxiously tapping a hole in the ground as his hands, tremulous from adrenaline, wrote:

                          Tonight, I found God in the grooves of a combat boot.

[dinafbrownil]

Must-Reads Of The Week From Brianna Labuskes

The Friday Breeze

Newsletter editor Brianna Labuskes, who reads everything on health care to compile our daily Morning Briefing, offers the best and most provocative stories for the weekend.

Happy Friday! Yours truly is back from beautiful Vietnam and it seems I missed one or two … ahem … minor news events while traipsing around.

I come bearing no souvenirs but rather two health reminders (one via Sen. Bernie Sanders). Firstly, don’t forget your flu shot — Australia has had an unusually early and severe season, which rarely bodes well for our own. The second comes in the form of a hard-earned lesson from a 2020 candidate: Don’t ignore those heart attack warning signs! (This is especially directed at women, who are dying unnecessarily from cardiac events.)

Now enough mother-henning. (You missed me, didn’t you?) On to the news of the week!

The Supremes are back in action, and a look at the high court’s docket reveals a potentially doozy of a politically charged term (with rulings expected to land as the general election heats up in 2020).

In the health care sphere, a big case to watch is the Louisiana abortion suit. An essentially identical Texas law — which requires doctors performing abortions to have admitting privileges at nearby hospitals — was ruled unconstitutional by the court in 2016, but that means little with two new justices appointed by President Donald Trump weighing in.

The New York Times: As the Supreme Court Gets Back to Work, Five Big Cases to Watch

Oral arguments in two other health-related cases were held this week. The justices grappled with the moral and legal complexities of the insanity defense. The case prompted questions such as this one from Justice Stephen Breyer: One defendant kills a victim he thinks is a dog. “The second defendant knows it’s a person but thinks the dog told him to do it,” Breyer said. “They are both crazy. And why does Kansas say one is guilty, the other is not guilty?”

The New York Times: Supreme Court Opens New Term With Argument on Insanity Defense

Tuesday was all about LGBTQ rights. Although most of the justices were divided along ideological lines on whether federal civil rights legislation applies to sexual orientation and gender identification, Justice Neil Gorsuch hinted his vote might be in play. As an avowed believer in textualism, he suggested that the words of Title VII are “really close, really close” to barring employment discrimination for those workers. But don’t go placing bets on the outcome yet. He also noted that he was worried about “the massive social upheaval” that would follow such a Supreme Court ruling.

The New York Times: Supreme Court Considers Whether Civil Rights Act Protects L.G.B.T. Workers

The Friday Breeze

Want a roundup of the must-read stories this week chosen by KHN Newsletter Editor Brianna Labuskes? Sign up for The Friday Breeze today.

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On that note, the 2020 Democratic candidates participated in an LGBTQ forum on the eve of National Coming Out Day. There were a handful of notable moments through the night (including a zinger from Sen. Elizabeth Warren that was met with loud applause), but much of the spotlight was on protesters who demanded the candidates pay attention to violence against black transgender women. “We are hunted,” said one member of the audience.

CNN: Protesters Interrupt CNN LGBTQ Town Hall to Highlight Plight of Black Transgender Women

Elsewhere on the campaign trail this week, controversy over a pregnancy discrimination talking point from Warren’s stump speech prompted women — including Warren rival Sen. Amy Klobuchar — to speak out on social media about their own and their mothers’ experiences.

NBC News: Women Rally in Support of Elizabeth Warren by Sharing Their Own Pregnancy Discrimination Stories

Sanders’ campaign confirmed that the health scare from last week was indeed a heart attack. The 2020 candidate — who promised to return “full blast” to the race — said he hopes people learn from his “dumb” mistake of ignoring the warning signs. In true politician-running-for-office style, he also was able to use the scare as a way to emphasize the importance of his signature policy proposal, “Medicare for All.”

Reuters: Democratic Presidential Hopeful Sanders Says He Was ‘Dumb’ to Ignore Health Warnings

In a sign of what’s to come for Big Pharma, South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg, one of the field’s more moderate candidates, released a drug pricing plan that is decidedly not moderate. The move falls in line with a broader sense that there’s an ever-growing appetite among even middle-ground Dems for action to rein in drugmakers.

Stat: Buttigieg Unveils an Aggressive Plan for Lowering Drug Prices

And for you political wonks out there, this was an interesting read on the shifting political dynamics of doctors, who once used to be a sure thing for the GOP.

The Wall Street Journal: Doctors, Once GOP Stalwarts, Now More Likely to Be Democrats

A key ruling on the health law is expected in the next few weeks, but officials (on condition of anonymity,  mind you) said that if the ruling is against the ACA, the Trump administration will ask the court to put any changes on hold — possibly until after the election. The reports further support the idea that the law, which has been, uh, politically fraught (to say the very least) over its entire life span, is at the moment viewed as an Achilles’ heel for Republicans.

The Washington Post: Trump Administration Plans to Delay Any Changes If the ACA Loses in Court

Two other major news items out of the administration this week to pay attention to:

The Associated Press: Trump Signs Proclamation Restricting Visas for Uninsured

The Associated Press: Overhaul Is Proposed for Decades-Old Medicare Fraud Rules

The first teenager’s death in the outbreak of vaping-related lung illnesses drove home this week public health officials’ message that young people are “playing with their lives” when they partake. The number of cases jumped to 1,299 as of Oct. 8, with the number of deaths rising to 26.

The Wall Street Journal: New York City’s First Vaping-Related Death Is a Bronx Teen

Reuters: U.S. Vaping-Related Deaths Rise to 26, Illnesses to 1,299

Although Juul is facing a barrage of lawsuits, one filed this week was notable. It was believed to be the first from school districts, which claim that fighting the vaping epidemic has been a drag on their resources. While some legal experts are dubious about whether the school districts can establish their standing, others aren’t ruling it out.

The New York Times: Juul Is Sued by School Districts That Say Vaping Is a Dangerous Drain on Their Resources

And the ripple effect of the crisis is spreading to life insurance prices.

Bloomberg: Prudential Plans to Boost Life Insurance Prices for Vapers

Time for you to flex your ethical muscles for the week: Should there be boundaries to highly personalized medicine? A pricey drug designed — and named for! — just one patient sparked questions this week about how far researchers should go in the name of curing a single person. Especially when there are thousands of patients out there with rare diseases. Would only the wealthiest subset be given cures? Who would decide which patients deserve limited research hours over others?

The New York Times: Scientists Designed a Drug for Just One Patient. Her Name Is Mila.

And ProPublica shines a light on the practice of drug companies using flashy Facebook ads, cash incentives and other marketing techniques to woo Mexican residents over the border to donate plasma. It’s not as innocuous as it might seem — donating too much plasma can compromise the immune system. (Selling plasma has been banned in Mexico since 1987.)

ProPublica: Pharmaceutical Companies Are Luring Mexicans Across the U.S. Border to Donate Blood Plasma

In the miscellaneous file for the week:

An Ohio doctor is being charged in 25 fentanyl-related deaths. How on earth was such a lapse allowed to occur? The New York Times peels back the curtain on years of lapses and missed warnings in one Columbus intensive care unit.

The New York Times: One Doctor. 25 Deaths. How Could It Have Happened?

During the week of World Mental Health Day, research finds that Americans are starting to internalize all the political rhetoric (and myths) about the connection between mental health and violence. “People want simple solutions: They want to be able to neatly explain things,” said one expert.

Los Angeles Times: Americans Increasingly Fear Violence From People Who Are Mentally Ill

There’s more than one way to keep a community healthy, and that goes beyond doctor’s offices, clinics and hospitals. A growing number of medical professionals are embracing the notion that steady paychecks, stable housing and good food are crucial to supporting their patients before they get sick.

The New York Times: When a Steady Paycheck Is Good Medicine for Communities

In a sad sign of the times, a muppet on “Sesame Street” is going to have a mother struggling with addiction. The storyline is meant to help an ever-increasing number of children affected by the opioid crisis.

Stat: ‘Sesame Street’ Launches Initiative to Help Explain Parental Addiction to Kids

High levels of uranium were found in the blood of Navajo women and babies in a study that underscored the real costs of America’s atomic development. Lawmakers are pushing for legislation that would compensate those who have been exposed.

The Associated Press: US Official: Research Finds Uranium in Navajo Women, Babies

And the Nobel Prizes are given out this week: In medicine, scientists who worked with oxygen and cells were honored. Their work has the potential to be the building blocks for things like cancer treatments.

The Washington Post: Nobel Prize in Medicine Awarded for Discovery of How Cells Sense Oxygen

That’s it from me! It’s good to be back with you guys, and I hope you have a great weekend!

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/friday-breeze-health-care-policy-must-reads-of-the-week-from-brianna-labuskes-october-11-2019/

[the-uptake]

Fluoridated Urethane Crisis Kismet

The Uptake, The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Chapter 1.

You see what I did there.

“–And here, you see?”

‘Choly held out his reader across the coffee shop table from his boyfriend, to show a bad quality photo from a security camera. The scrawny, bespectacled punk retracted it shortly after and huffed, doing a split-screen to pull up a different bad quality photo side to side, and re-offered it. In one photo, a figure in a dull hoodie with the hood drawn glanced behind him with the intent to steal a jug of fabric softener. In the other, a figure in a long dark grey coat lined at every seam with reflective straps had a slicked back undercut and one eye.

“Photo of the Geek in the Level 5 Greeley’s last year. And a still from one of last week’s EPA press conferences. The specialist’s the Geek! No way that isn’t him.”

The typical soft cyan ambiance of charged Wolfram concrete surrounded them at their window table. Cecil shifted in his seat, and looking into his lidless pumpkin spice latte, his tattoo-sleeved arms rested his weight against the tabletop. He pursed his snakebitten lips tight together, and began to rub at his forearms. An observer wouldn’t think the two had a thing in common, down to looking like they came from entirely different decades. ‘Choly was the openly obsessive one, androgynous with long dark bangtails and a dayglow goth-punk sensibility, porting all manner of splints and braces. Cecil had about him a tailored rockabilly vibe, sporting a brassy short pompadour with a roll-cuffed button-down, suspenders, and drainpipe trousers. Just as much, Cecil didn’t want to find correlation in those two photos presented to him. He didn’t like the supposition that this mystery figure was the Supermarket Geek. But, he couldn’t deny shared features.

“I still don’t know how that busted-up six-year-old reader even connects to the Web…”

“Why’re you always raggin’ on it?” ‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane beside him and surreptitiously slipped out one of the vials of vodka inside it, to doctor his black coffee. He sipped it down a bit to make more room, then grinned to himself as he put the tippling cane back together. “I told ya before why I hadn’t upgraded. Does everything I need it to. Like show you photographic evidence I’m right.”

Cecil’s brow knitted at the device in front of him, trying to overlook that his date was sneaking alcohol in a place that didn’t serve any.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but…”

“What?” The steam on ‘Choly’s circle-frame glasses vanished as he lurched nearer with a saccharine smile. “Y’know something about that ‘specialist’?”

“Sort of. How do I even put this? A lot of what I do isn’t just working on the equipment and tagging content in the Hub. It’s helping people research stuff. Showing them how to navigate information on the Web. It’s a lot of that, Central has most of the city’s servers. And there was a guy last year, he… came in asking about radiation poisoning. He was real upset, and in the process of trying to determine what kind of information he needed, I said something that made him just blurt out that he’d been in proximity to that… that blob thing. The thing that wrecked that chemical factory last year.”

“That thing was radioactive–!” The awkward nerd clapped a metal-stayed hand to his mouth realizing his volume, worried to disturb the other patrons. “That thing was radioactive? What put the specialist someplace to run into the mutant thing? The,” he mentally lapsed a moment, hung up on the word, viscously phlegmatic, “the larva. It… reminds me of a grub worm.”

“…You are obsessed with insects.”

“I know.” Another sniff, this time more to stifle mental wilding. “…Imagining it as a larva, I’ve always wondered what it– might have turned into–”

“–Just let me finish.” The exact opposite, Cecil thought to himself, if only you’d let me finish. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “The blob thing had hid after busting up the factory, and as an off-duty cop, the guy trailed it hoping to get the authorities involved if necessary. But it turns out, the blob wasn’t just sentient, it was human. Was. And the way he put it, it was in pain like a lion with a thorn. Lots of thorns. But the swelled up masses started vanishing right in front of this guy. The thing was excreting metal from its skin, but it was having trouble and cried out for the guy to help it pry off the metal. The stuff hardened in sheets. Like a shell, I think he said. Soon the thing wasn’t swollen up anymore, and looked just like it could’ve been a teenager. It wasn’t until it was near-incapacitated afterward, just laying there exhausted, that it told the guy he’d helped it get half a ton of raw technetium out of its body barehanded.”

The librarian sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and partook in his coffee while it was still hot. The obvious mental pause drove ‘Choly insane. But after such an info bomb, the dreg’s bursting brain seized up and couldn’t just rattle off every question imaginable–so he gave his date the time to form the punchline to these grotesque descriptions.

“So yeah, ah. Of course the cop went to the doctor about it, but he couldn’t stop insisting in a post-traumatic fugue that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Wouldn’t elaborate what that meant, but he insisted he knew the kid meant no harm because he’s spoken to him. So this guy’s a cop, and he’s had a few run-ins with the Supermarket Geek on his beat. …That’s the same kid. And that ‘specialist.’”

‘Choly paled in horror as he adjoined all the facts Cecil had just set out before him. In a ragged mental loop, beneath the table, he pressed and dragged a finger against the copper metallic leggings exposed through the holes in his ripped skinny jeans. He unstuck to grab the reader and open the video of the EPA conference he’d snapped the still from. A woman with dark complexion, in hazmat gear minus the headwear, stood in the middle of a cordoned off and heavily protected street, with a handful of EPA employees behind her.

“E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect the quarantine lines. The Agency–”

He skipped forward to where the press had begun asking questions.

“–dition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

An assortment of figures stood alongside her, but a few feet behind her stood a small, tailored silhouette which only in spirit felt like one could call it hazmat suiting. The figure visibly recoiled and drew the neon chartreuse hood which did not match the coat, and turned his face away the instant he could tell the live Web footage cameras had zeroed in on him.

“We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it.”

He rewound the clip to the half second right before the figure grew too camera-shy. He paused and stared at that face.

“The Geek’s… a meta…”

‘Choly had always struggled to hide his abrupt bouts of sexual heaviness in public settings, and here it escaped him in tone and in the choked exhalation which followed it. Metahumans were no longer some mere tabloid myth, cemented before him in reality by a circumstance of federal proximity. In his own city, where a radiochemical disaster was unfolding right beneath them all. His ragged unsteady breathing stifled him, and his hollow glare remained transfixed upon the reader screen at length.

“–How long have you known? I’ve been goin’ on about the Fulton Mass for months now.”

“I think it was August last year. I told the cop I wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, I don’t know if I like the idea of the EPA employing the Geek, if they’re calling him their specialist.”

Cecil almost shot off that he shouldn’t have said anything, in a playful jab at the reaction he’d elicited, but a woman approached them from behind ‘Choly and beat him to it.

“And just what do you know about the Geek, or the EPA?”

The heavyset Indian woman, wearing lavender makeup and business casual attire, with her bun in snood combs, stood behind ‘Choly with fatigue locking her gaze on Cecil. She held in her hand a frozen green tea. Cecil could see the woman’s federal ID badge clipped to her sweater.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“His name is Galen, you know. Galen Miner. And though he may no longer be human, he’s still a person.” She made a roundabout gesture with her drink before taking a sip. “Do you know why people call him the Geek? Because they think he’s a freak show. But he doesn’t eat chicken heads. He’s not a hybrid.”

“So you have hired him on with the EPA.” At Cecil’s comment, ‘Choly scrambled about face to put the voice to the figure, dumbstruck that this was the woman from the press conference.

“What he does eat is invaluable to us at a time like this.”

Unable to contain himself, ‘Choly garnered Bensington’s line of sight.

“You’re feedin’ him the Quarter.”

“Galen’s an unfortunate case, but that’s nothing compared to the others.”

“–Others–” ‘Choly’s voice cracked unbearably, and he forced his legs crossed under the table and glared at Cecil, who glared right back at him, for some sort of mutual mental grounding. “O, others?”

“If you’ve been keeping up with the news about the disaster, you’ll recall how the affected Stalkers that have sought medical provisions keep getting turned away? It wasn’t their lack of documentation that denied them care. Medical training does not currently exist for what is happening to them.”

Fighting how this information affected him dulled his distracted eyes, and he trembled. The last thing he needed was to hear he was right about the chemical leaching at Level 1, but it was absolutely the first thing his degenerate brain begged to hear. He presumed she meant exposure to the chemical had reinvented the Geek. Though he failed at length to form a response, the look on his face said everything.

Cecil asked what he knew ‘Choly couldn’t spit out:

“What’s causing all this?”

Bensington shrugged and did her best to ignore ‘Choly’s demeanor.

“We aren’t entirely certain yet. We just know it’s extensive, and it’s not isolated. …It’s late. You’re smart, the both of you. Nearly too smart. Putting two and two together, figuring out the correlation. You especially, young man.” She shook a finger at Cecil, then she set down her drink long enough to produce a business card from her cross-body back and scrawl on the back of it. “I could use some civilian input on all this. Until we get a chance to talk more in depth, I can’t have you mentioning this conversation to anyone, not even that it happened. But, if you could call me… Tuesday next week. Ten in the morning or so. Perhaps we could contrast anything Tri-City natives would notice against the Agency’s current comprehension of the situation.”

Cecil stared at the card as she handed it to him and picked her drink back up.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“I truly appreciate it–”

“Cecil.”

“Yes.” She nodded knowingly. “Cecil, I appreciate it. Truly. If you’ll excuse me, though. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you’ll have a good evening.”

‘Choly sputtered as she left the coffee shop. Her offhand comment regarding his perceived gender had left him stupid. The slight burned almost as badly as not having had the luxury of learning more, and only knowing Cecil would speak to here again, soon, calmed his nerves.

“Sorry about that,” Cecil started.

“You’re sorry?” ‘Choly waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Every shoe I own would’a been in my mouth by the end of it, if I’d been able to say and ask everything on my mind.” Feeling small, he nursed at his cheater’s black russian and looked up to his boyfriend, who now stared off into the room. “…You really gonna call her? Sounds like she thinks you really know a lot about this.” I really want you to tell me more. Everything you know. You have to.

“Dunno, I should.”

“Probably.” ‘Choly could tell Cecil didn’t want to talk about the Geek anymore at this point. With a detached sniff, he grasped for a momentary change of subject, and dove into the first thing that came to mind. “Cecil. Been tryin’ to build up the nerve to ask about it, bringing up the EPA video earlier. I… need your help. I’m havin’… a bit of trouble.”

Still fidgeting with the business card, Cecil shifted back in his seat, consternation mashing his brows together. From the conversation up to then, it was easy to speculate this kind of trouble might involve the law.

“I’m a librarian, not a magician, Melanochro. What makes you think I could help?”

“It’s money. Sort of. My money, any rate. My landlady’s evicting me if I don’t pay off my back rent by the end of the month. And before you go thinking I’m askin’ you to help me with my bills, that’s not even the thing.”

This offered Cecil no improved reassurance. ‘Choly swallowed, and continued.

“We’ve been… we’ve been going out for what, six months now? As it is, I spend a lotta time at your apartment, n’you at mine. It’d be cool if I…” Suddenly, words didn’t work, and he let his needful glance speak for him.

“Your job hasn’t been paying enough for you to afford the micro-apartment?”

“You say ‘your job’ like bein’ a sorter’s anything consistent.” The dreg laughed in weak anxiety. “By the time I moved out of my dad’s place, I’d started trying to be a little more proactive with my sorter’s skills. Bein’ a sorter doesn’t pay too much, but hacker intel? I’ve always tried to be savvy with what I put my hands on, before I scrapped it down to raw materials. The most recent thing I came across netted me a hundred-fifty, but that was a year ago. The sorter’s scene has been so dry for lucrative component handlin’, and you know my health doesn’t really allow for me resorting to truffling. Seekin’ stuff out on my own… I’m down to my last twenty creds. Last paid my landlady in June.”

“You should have told me sooner you were struggling so bad.” Cecil flopped down the card and looked at him with a square serenity. “I like having you there at my place. I don’t see why not. And you know what…” He trailed off a moment while he assessed logistics. “It wouldn’t be such a physically taxing thing, if you were to get a job at the library. I could pull some strings and get you working in physical copies with me.”

On the one hand, it relieved ‘Choly not to have met objection, but Cecil’s next logical step only served to chew the dreg up. In his mind, he was failing to keep face with this lovely guy he’d been seeing for months. Cecil had thought of ‘Choly as some exciting and mysterious element of danger in his life. ‘Choly admitting all he had, how not on top of everything he really was, it devastated the dreg. And the part that he had to disclose next, he squirmed.

“I, I don’t. I haven’t got papers. No social. Don’t you need that stuff to get a city job?”

“I could… tell Dave I’ve got it all taken care of, just need his clearance. I know you’re good for it. You’re smart, and for how glued to your reader you are, I know you love books–actual books. I’ve been begging him for over a year to find me somebody to help me in physical copies, to be honest.” Cecil smiled. “Somebody as passionate about it as I am.”

“You’d… do that for me?”

“I love you. I want you to be safe… and, well. Ok. I want you to be ok. And from what you’ve told me, you’re not doing ok. I think things will work out great. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Entirely true, though multiply-so. In order to have a safe place to live, he’d have to give this job offer a shot. Moving back in with either of his parents simply wasn’t an option.

“Say you’ll let me take you out for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk about getting your place packed up, storage options, all that. Ice-99 sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bensington was right.” Cecil glanced at the card again to make sure he’d remembered the name. “It’s getting late. How about we cut out and call it a night? You’re free to crash at my place. You are moving in, after all.”

‘Choly took a hard swig of his black coffee, letting the vodka burn his nerves.

“I was… thinking more that we could go back to my place. Get an idea of what I actually need to bring with me.”

“You know more books always have a place in my apartment. And if you’re talking about that mountain of clothing by your bed, I’m sure we can figure something out.” The two exchanged a laugh, the tension softening as Cecil traced a finger against the back of one of ‘Choly’s wrist-braced hands. “I’m good with that.”

“Let me…” ‘Choly knocked back the last third of his drink. “Let me get a refill, and we can get out of here.”

“Room or no room?” Cecil ribbed as ‘Choly used his cane to get to the counter.

#cyberpunk #biopunk #dystopian #disaster #the uptake #the world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds #fluoridated urethane crisis kismet #f.u.c.k. #melanochro kara #george cecil #yvpraksya bensington

[cryptochurp]

Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

“Ever heard of tulips?” It’s a question anyone who is publically involved in the cryptocurrency space has been asked multiple times. With the enormous gains in value the industry has seen, many observers come to the same conclusion. It’s a bubble.

The take is not a terrible one and many experienced cryptocurrency traders agree with the sentiment. Bubbles have come to be an expected occurrence in the space. The difference in opinion comes when deciding whether the “pop” will be a minor setback or the final conclusion in an exciting but short-lived ride.

On one side are the supporters of cryptocurrency. Their motivations can be boiled down to two points: desire for profits and a belief that the technology will benefit humanity. They believe that bubbles are a natural phenomenon in price discovery and an inevitable part of the long-term upward trend in value that will occur as cryptocurrencies become more utilized. They also understand that, while bubbles can hurt some traders in the short term, they are a necessary evil in the development of a technology which stands to dramatically increase human financial freedom. Sometimes these motivations can seem at odds, but in general they coexist within the community.

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

On the other side are the skeptics. Doubt in cryptocurrency has made strange bedfellows of a band of commentators as diverse as it is vocal. Nobel prize economists, billionaire bankers, goldbugs and central banks have all weighed in to signal their prediction of the industry’s inevitable demise. And with the spotlight of increasing coin valuations has come even more doubters. In the age of Twitter, it’s almost essential that you have an opinion on the matter and that you let the world know it. For detractors, the tulip meme often comes into play:

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

For skeptics as much as believers, there is a personal economic motivation. While they may not have cashed in on the extraordinary rise of cryptocurrencies, they think the game is rigged from the start. By keeping their hard earned cash out of the market, they are saving themselves from an “inevitable” crash to zero.

But under this current of self-preservation is an ethical play opposite to that of cryptocurrency supporters. Many detractors believe that this technology is not just ridiculous but actually harmful to society. What drives this outlook? The true history of the tulip bubble can give us an interesting view of the motivations driving their sentiment.

An Early Mania

Tulip Mania is the go-to story whenever someone wants to talk about humanity’s penchant for irrational exuberance in financial markets. It’s the catchy name for the extraordinary rise in value, and subsequent crash, of Dutch tulip bulb valuations over a four month span from November 1636 to February 1637. This phenomenon had devastating effects on the Dutch economy and left many people in financial ruin.

At least that’s how the story is told.

But according to Anne Goldgar, Professor of Early Modern History at King’s College London and author of Tulipmania: Money, Honor, and Knowledge in the Dutch Golden Age, the popular story is mostly an exaggeration.

The description of her book reads like this:

“We have heard how these bulbs changed hands hundreds of times in a single day, and how some bulbs, sold and resold for thousands of guilders, never even existed. Tulipmania is seen as an example of the gullibility of crowds and the dangers of financial speculation. But it wasn’t like that … not one of these stories is true.”

Goldgar uses extensive research to expose that, while there was a rise and crash of tulip prices, much of what we believe about the period is the product of historical exaggeration from a small number of writers.

What drove this? According to Goldgar, it was a product of societal anxieties triggered by the immense riches of the Dutch Golden Age. As Lorraine Boissoneault writes in Smithsonian Magazine’s recent piece on the book, “All the outlandish stories of economic ruin, of an innocent sailor thrown in prison for eating a tulip bulb, of chimney sweeps wading into the market in hopes of striking it rich — those come from propaganda pamphlets published by Dutch Calvinists worried that the tulip-propelled consumerism boom would lead to societal decay.”

English historian Simon Schama also writes of the period: “The prodigious quality of their [the Dutch] success went to their heads, but it also made them a bit queasy. Even their most uninhibited documents of self-congratulation are haunted by the threat of overvloed (abundance) ... a word heavy with warning as well as euphoria.”

When looked at through the lens of this historic research, the legend of the tulip bubble becomes less about financial mania and more about the way that an economic memory can reflect a society’s collective mindset. The Dutch Golden Age represents a period during the 17th century when “Dutch trade, science, military, and art were among the most acclaimed in the world.”

This transformation was termed the “Dutch Miracle” by historian K.W. Swart. But, while it is easy to look back now and realize this era was a huge stepping stone to the modern prosperity the Dutch people enjoy today, at the time the progress was not as apparent. Many of the Dutch found a hard time adjusting to a society where fortunes were being created overnight. Schama compares the mindset to one which was found by de Tocqueville in 19th century America: “that strange melancholy which often haunts the inhabitants of democratic countries in the midst of their abundance, and the disgust at life which sometimes seizes upon them in the midst of calm and easy circumstances.”

While there was undoubtedly a run on Dutch Tulip prices, it seems there was an equal run on seizing the opportunity to find a negative aspect to extraordinary societal progress. Today, we are seeing the same mindset from cryptocurrency skeptics.

Modern Anxieties

Cryptocurrency has arrived at an uncomfortable moment in history. There is a wide debate surrounding whether or not technology is hurting human progress. Many argue that smartphones are making kids depressed and robots are taking our jobs. The thought is that technology which was supposed to make life better is instead causing us to become stupid, antisocial and unhealthy. On top of this, the freedom of speech made possible by the internet is being questioned for the alleged harm it can cause to democracy.

It is in this atmosphere of negativity that critics have found their “tulip moment” in cryptocurrency. It is being latched onto as an lightning rod for these growing worries about a society that is becoming radically shaped by the digital age. Detractors consistently ignore any possible justification for cryptocurrency to be considered useful and instead focus on its most distasteful features:

Haha, I feel sorry for all you losers who missed out on the Bitcoin train. You should've bought in years ago, like me: A perfectly normal man who coincidentally hoarded a virtual currency during a time when it's only use was for sex trafficking and purchasing organs.

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

Many cannot push their analysis past observations of price movements. Warren Buffett partner Charlie Munger has described the cryptocurrency scene as “total insanity” and recently told an audience at University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, “I think it is perfectly asinine to even pause to think about them. It’s bad people, crazy bubble, bad idea, luring people into the concept of easy wealth without much insight or work.”

Others, echoing popular sentiment questioning unbridled freedom of speech, are worried about a lack of governmental oversight. Back in 2013 author Charlie Stross wrote in Why I Want Bitcoin to Die in a Fire that “Bitcoin looks like it was designed as a weapon intended to damage central banking and money-issuing banks, with a Libertarian political agenda in mind — to damage states’ ability to collect tax and monitor their citizens’ financial transactions … late-period capitalism may suck, but replacing it with Bitcoin would be like swapping out a hangnail for Fournier's gangrene.”

Economist Paul Krugman cited the article in his piece Bitcoin Is Evil, adding “Stross doesn’t like that agenda, and neither do I.” While Krugman did admit he was open to conversation on the topic, fellow economist, Joseph Stiglitz, has been less forgiving. Recently he told Bloomberg “Bitcoin is successful only because of its potential for circumvention, lack of oversight...So it seems to me it ought to be outlawed … It doesn’t serve any socially useful function.”

The Progress Paradox

Are these arguments baseless? Not at all. Cryptocurrencies do in fact make many unsavory things possible. But, much like supporters believe bubbles are a necessary evil for price growth, they also believe that some illicit activities are a worthwhile trade-off for the ability to have a censorship-resistant, value-transfer system. They believe the win for personal freedom trumps all else.

It looks as if this idea is spreading. Bitcoin alone has grown from roughly 6,000 transactions per day in January of 2011 to 240,000 transactions on January 1, 2018. With 1000+ other cryptocurrencies, each growing their own communities, this desire for this financial independence appears contagious.

To the critics, these statistics do not matter. They will continue to focus on perceived faults. As the myth of the Tulip Bubble illustrates, this is rooted in human psychology. Some people are set on ignoring the progress around them.

De Tocqueville observed: “In America I saw the freest and most enlightened men placed in the happiest circumstances that the world affords; it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious and almost sad, even in their pleasures.” Over the last few centuries, technology has made our lives less nasty, brutish and short. But, for some of us, the natural reaction has been to question whether it was really worth it.

Cryptocurrency now finds itself at the center of this larger debate over the morality of technology in a developing society. If supporters have their way, it holds the power to usher in a new era of human economic freedom. If critics have their way it will be regulated to death.

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2HnIjpp via IFTTT

#BTC #HODL #ETH #CryptoChurp.com

[ellahmacdermott]

Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

“Ever heard of tulips?” It’s a question anyone who is publically involved in the cryptocurrency space has been asked multiple times. With the enormous gains in value the industry has seen, many observers come to the same conclusion. It’s a bubble.

The take is not a terrible one and many experienced cryptocurrency traders agree with the sentiment. Bubbles have come to be an expected occurrence in the space. The difference in opinion comes when deciding whether the “pop” will be a minor setback or the final conclusion in an exciting but short-lived ride.

On one side are the supporters of cryptocurrency. Their motivations can be boiled down to two points: desire for profits and a belief that the technology will benefit humanity. They believe that bubbles are a natural phenomenon in price discovery and an inevitable part of the long-term upward trend in value that will occur as cryptocurrencies become more utilized. They also understand that, while bubbles can hurt some traders in the short term, they are a necessary evil in the development of a technology which stands to dramatically increase human financial freedom. Sometimes these motivations can seem at odds, but in general they coexist within the community.

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

On the other side are the skeptics. Doubt in cryptocurrency has made strange bedfellows of a band of commentators as diverse as it is vocal. Nobel prize economists, billionaire bankers, goldbugs and central banks have all weighed in to signal their prediction of the industry’s inevitable demise. And with the spotlight of increasing coin valuations has come even more doubters. In the age of Twitter, it’s almost essential that you have an opinion on the matter and that you let the world know it. For detractors, the tulip meme often comes into play:

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

For skeptics as much as believers, there is a personal economic motivation. While they may not have cashed in on the extraordinary rise of cryptocurrencies, they think the game is rigged from the start. By keeping their hard earned cash out of the market, they are saving themselves from an “inevitable” crash to zero.

But under this current of self-preservation is an ethical play opposite to that of cryptocurrency supporters. Many detractors believe that this technology is not just ridiculous but actually harmful to society. What drives this outlook? The true history of the tulip bubble can give us an interesting view of the motivations driving their sentiment.

An Early Mania

Tulip Mania is the go-to story whenever someone wants to talk about humanity’s penchant for irrational exuberance in financial markets. It’s the catchy name for the extraordinary rise in value, and subsequent crash, of Dutch tulip bulb valuations over a four month span from November 1636 to February 1637. This phenomenon had devastating effects on the Dutch economy and left many people in financial ruin.

At least that’s how the story is told.

But according to Anne Goldgar, Professor of Early Modern History at King’s College London and author of Tulipmania: Money, Honor, and Knowledge in the Dutch Golden Age, the popular story is mostly an exaggeration.

The description of her book reads like this:

“We have heard how these bulbs changed hands hundreds of times in a single day, and how some bulbs, sold and resold for thousands of guilders, never even existed. Tulipmania is seen as an example of the gullibility of crowds and the dangers of financial speculation. But it wasn’t like that … not one of these stories is true.”

Goldgar uses extensive research to expose that, while there was a rise and crash of tulip prices, much of what we believe about the period is the product of historical exaggeration from a small number of writers.

What drove this? According to Goldgar, it was a product of societal anxieties triggered by the immense riches of the Dutch Golden Age. As Lorraine Boissoneault writes in Smithsonian Magazine’s recent piece on the book, “All the outlandish stories of economic ruin, of an innocent sailor thrown in prison for eating a tulip bulb, of chimney sweeps wading into the market in hopes of striking it rich — those come from propaganda pamphlets published by Dutch Calvinists worried that the tulip-propelled consumerism boom would lead to societal decay.”

English historian Simon Schama also writes of the period: “The prodigious quality of their [the Dutch] success went to their heads, but it also made them a bit queasy. Even their most uninhibited documents of self-congratulation are haunted by the threat of overvloed (abundance) ... a word heavy with warning as well as euphoria.”

When looked at through the lens of this historic research, the legend of the tulip bubble becomes less about financial mania and more about the way that an economic memory can reflect a society’s collective mindset. The Dutch Golden Age represents a period during the 17th century when “Dutch trade, science, military, and art were among the most acclaimed in the world.”

This transformation was termed the “Dutch Miracle” by historian K.W. Swart. But, while it is easy to look back now and realize this era was a huge stepping stone to the modern prosperity the Dutch people enjoy today, at the time the progress was not as apparent. Many of the Dutch found a hard time adjusting to a society where fortunes were being created overnight. Schama compares the mindset to one which was found by de Tocqueville in 19th century America: “that strange melancholy which often haunts the inhabitants of democratic countries in the midst of their abundance, and the disgust at life which sometimes seizes upon them in the midst of calm and easy circumstances.”

While there was undoubtedly a run on Dutch Tulip prices, it seems there was an equal run on seizing the opportunity to find a negative aspect to extraordinary societal progress. Today, we are seeing the same mindset from cryptocurrency skeptics.

Modern Anxieties

Cryptocurrency has arrived at an uncomfortable moment in history. There is a wide debate surrounding whether or not technology is hurting human progress. Many argue that smartphones are making kids depressed and robots are taking our jobs. The thought is that technology which was supposed to make life better is instead causing us to become stupid, antisocial and unhealthy. On top of this, the freedom of speech made possible by the internet is being questioned for the alleged harm it can cause to democracy.

It is in this atmosphere of negativity that critics have found their “tulip moment” in cryptocurrency. It is being latched onto as an lightning rod for these growing worries about a society that is becoming radically shaped by the digital age. Detractors consistently ignore any possible justification for cryptocurrency to be considered useful and instead focus on its most distasteful features:

Haha, I feel sorry for all you losers who missed out on the Bitcoin train. You should've bought in years ago, like me: A perfectly normal man who coincidentally hoarded a virtual currency during a time when it's only use was for sex trafficking and purchasing organs.

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

Many cannot push their analysis past observations of price movements. Warren Buffett partner Charlie Munger has described the cryptocurrency scene as “total insanity” and recently told an audience at University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, “I think it is perfectly asinine to even pause to think about them. It’s bad people, crazy bubble, bad idea, luring people into the concept of easy wealth without much insight or work.”

Others, echoing popular sentiment questioning unbridled freedom of speech, are worried about a lack of governmental oversight. Back in 2013 author Charlie Stross wrote in Why I Want Bitcoin to Die in a Fire that “Bitcoin looks like it was designed as a weapon intended to damage central banking and money-issuing banks, with a Libertarian political agenda in mind — to damage states’ ability to collect tax and monitor their citizens’ financial transactions … late-period capitalism may suck, but replacing it with Bitcoin would be like swapping out a hangnail for Fournier's gangrene.”

Economist Paul Krugman cited the article in his piece Bitcoin Is Evil, adding “Stross doesn’t like that agenda, and neither do I.” While Krugman did admit he was open to conversation on the topic, fellow economist, Joseph Stiglitz, has been less forgiving. Recently he told Bloomberg “Bitcoin is successful only because of its potential for circumvention, lack of oversight...So it seems to me it ought to be outlawed … It doesn’t serve any socially useful function.”

The Progress Paradox

Are these arguments baseless? Not at all. Cryptocurrencies do in fact make many unsavory things possible. But, much like supporters believe bubbles are a necessary evil for price growth, they also believe that some illicit activities are a worthwhile trade-off for the ability to have a censorship-resistant, value-transfer system. They believe the win for personal freedom trumps all else.

It looks as if this idea is spreading. Bitcoin alone has grown from roughly 6,000 transactions per day in January of 2011 to 240,000 transactions on January 1, 2018. With 1000+ other cryptocurrencies, each growing their own communities, this desire for this financial independence appears contagious.

To the critics, these statistics do not matter. They will continue to focus on perceived faults. As the myth of the Tulip Bubble illustrates, this is rooted in human psychology. Some people are set on ignoring the progress around them.

De Tocqueville observed: “In America I saw the freest and most enlightened men placed in the happiest circumstances that the world affords; it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious and almost sad, even in their pleasures.” Over the last few centuries, technology has made our lives less nasty, brutish and short. But, for some of us, the natural reaction has been to question whether it was really worth it.

Cryptocurrency now finds itself at the center of this larger debate over the morality of technology in a developing society. If supporters have their way, it holds the power to usher in a new era of human economic freedom. If critics have their way it will be regulated to death.

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from InvestmentOpportunityInCryptocurrencies via Ella Macdermott on Inoreader https://bitcoinmagazine.com/articles/op-ed-tulip-myths-and-modern-cryptocurrency-skepticism/