#no one views him as human because technically speaking. he isn't human anymore

[epicfirestormer]

Me: I'm fine

Also me: Six getting his memory erased in "Six Minus Six" and Rex trying to make him remember is meant to parallel just how terrifying it must've been for Six and Holiday when Rex would sometime lose his memories before canon started. We know from what Tuck told Rex that he had lost his memories so many times, he would keep a notebook on him to make sure he would remember. How many times had this happen, for it to be a habit. How many memories did Rex lose when he was in Providence. How much of his own life does Rex actually remember during those years. Did Rex and Six bonded and got close before Rex inevitably blacks out and forgets everything again. How absolutely horrifying is it for Rex, a child in everything but title, to wake up with no idea who he is at a goddamn government facility and treated nothing more than a weapon. How heartbreaking had it been for Holiday, a mother figure who treats Rex like a child- how he should be treated- to see him not recall anything about her. How absolutely soul-crushing had it be for Six, who had taught this kid to survive and how to stay strong, to see that same kid act in fear. Did Providence did something similar to what Rex did, keeping a log of everything about him so he could know right away. How awful is that. How absolutely batshit, fucking insanely immoral it is that a child have to go through. To lose memories and be conditioned about waking up a military base. But in the eyes of Providence, he isn't a child. He's a weapon, an asset at best, and a monster at worst.

#generator rex #i have. so much emotions about generator rex #once again I need to talk about how genuinely fucked up the world of genrex is #like. rex is a fuckin kid. he's 16 #he can't even fucking drink #at yet here he is. forced to fight and be a child soldier because that's what he is. #no one views him as human because technically speaking. he isn't human anymore #he's a *thing* #can you imagine that. no wonder holiday always sounds pissed when everyone expects him to act like an adult #because he isn't. he's a teenager who got thrown in here because of factors out of his control and he has no choice but to fight #of course he's gonna rebel. that's just what kids do #honestly those episodes where rex is just. being a teenager and having fun? those are great. he deserves a break #i need to rewatch genrex cause holy shit i have a lot to say about it #something something ''providence is immoral'' something something ''rex is a child soldier'' #what else is new #rex salazar #the fire burns #generator rex spoilers #spoilers #im only tagging this as spoilers so that anyone new to this show don't get spoiled #also my mutuals who im gonna force to watch generator rex with me #hi silver. if you're reading this; thanks for getting this far #but also. let's watch genrex sometimes. it's really good

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I didnt watch rc9gn (sorry), but that question anon asked got me thinking:dont we already have amnesiac boy? *points at rex*?

Anon dont ever apologize for not having watched something, we all consume media/content at our own preference and pace!!! (I speak as a person who as of yet have not watched at least 5 major cartoons/shows of last decades lol) So its totally cool, always!

But YES you are totally right, Rex is another resident amnesiac in accordance to his canon show. It's actually one of the big bonding moments for him and Randy in HoM AU! ;D

However, the major difference between them is that Rex - started his 'hero' career after he lost his memory (the second time) and Randy - will canonically loose his memory at the end of his 'hero' career (or more like it ends his hero career). So you see their similar problems are also wildly different lol.

(um i went on a bit of a random rant about mostly Rex below, so you can read it of u want because im too lazy to delete it, but like, the point of the answer is above, so ye)

Technically Rex's amnesia is supposed to be a sort of 'chronic' debilitation that happens when he 'overloads'/ enters Titan mechabot state lol. But the show itself kind fibbled greatly with it (which annoys me to no end), because it seems that after the Nanite Event he periodically lost his memories so often, he kept a journal (when he was in the 'gang' with his friends) to keep track and later on Holiday and Five kept a close eye on him (i think it was implied he lost his memories at least once more at the care of Providence but i might be remembering wrong) in case his amnesia happened again. So, it seemed that his amnesia incidents got better with time, since we don't touch on the subject of him having another amnesiac episode almost throughout the whole show (and he even recovers several small memories!), until that damn finale.

At the end after the big fight, there was this sort of 'scare' of "Oh no! Rex saved the world but he forgot his family and friends!' but SYKE NO HE DIDN'T! And like... it wasn't completely explained, but i think it was implied that in that brief moment Rex was the Nanite Jesus Deity he somehow cured himself of amnesia i guess?? I was literally so mad about it, we were kind of building up to Rex making an ultimate sacrifice of his 'self' and it would have been such a great idea if he did loose his memory and have been allowed to (at least temporary) retire to his family home (of ex-werewolves) where he wouldn't be viewed as a weapon anymore, but... we get an ambigous 'some major villains escaped and are now at large' and thus Rex is still needed on the job and since he isn't amnesiac we dont even need to coerce him to fight! yay!

(can you tell im a little bit bitter about the end lol)

I mean I know the show was left in this sort of 'nothing changed' ambiguity for (im guessing) future possible continuation and/or for the GenRex brand, but its like my biggest annoyance from this show, which otherwise had such great storytelling! (in comparison to Ben10 AF&UA run lol)

That aside, what's up with Randy is different in a manner that his amnesia is something canonically inevitable and really scary if one thinks about it. 4 years of very life-changing experiences, of being a hero, just taken away would certainly reflect somewhat on him afterwards? I mean Im not sure how exactly mind-wipe work, (i dont remember all the details rn) but assuming it literally leaves you with gaps in your memories, without replacing them or something similar. So one of possible outcomes would be of post- mind wipe Randy feeling that he misses something from his life so keenly that it hurts him. Or perhaps human mind would work wonders of sort of 'filling' the gaps with vague false memories to not go insane, and after Randy would be constantly questioning that part of his life?

Many possiblities, but man I dunno, like, since rc9gn didnt have much in form of continuation so there is no extra info to explore.

But it does give me so much freedom to go completely bonkers in hom au (which i did man i went a really weird route ngl), because who's gonna stop me?? canon?????

...sorry this came out of nowhere, apparently i had a lot of feelings about Rex and his amnesia.

#que? #hom au #hom au q&a #uuuuuhh sorry for the rant

[petitelepus]

OKAY SO

You technically know me 😼

But imma give you smth to work with :3

So i want a normal, human matchup??

I'm female, (can i say i'm bi i dunno??) 170 in height, kinda chunky but a lil muscly??

I have a permanent resting b face, short fuse, death stare EVERYBODY 😈

I'm nice to people that deserve it?? Like, if a stranger comes up to me and asks something or i ask someone for something i'm an angel but if somebody i know and don't like talks to me, i'm a bitch

I'm overall a bitch, but also a lil shy??

I like drawing, singing from time to time, i ADORE KITTIES AND WILL DO EVERYTHING FOR THEM.

With people i befriend i unlock my NAUGHTY ASS HUMOUR and overall cracked sense of humour.

(Just in case, we both know how i simp for Sanemi but you don't have to match me with him if that doesn't match me - yeah me big ass brain)

IF THIS REQUEST IS TOO CRACKED THEN TELL ME I WILL REWRITE IT???

or give up in shame

LOVE YAH BABE 😻🤯🥳

I match you with Sanemi Shinazugawa!

You and Sanemi both have resting bitch faces and may look unapproachable. In your case, it can be a defensive mechanism but in the Wind Hashira's case, he is a bastard who has no respect for anyone.

In the beginning, the two of you probably butt heads every single moment you two meet, infuriating and annoying each other so freaking much...! But you both secretly love how you can get under each other's skins. Not that either one of you will say it out loud!

Sanemi certainly does not deserve your kindness and he doesn't expect any from you.

It takes time and tons of hard work from you to earn his respect and even when you have it, he doesn't show it. He is as stubborn as a mule.

You aren't afraid of hard work and he admires that trait in you. He does not rely on luck and firmly believes that actions speak louder than words.

He secretly thinks you are cute, but you will never hear him say it out loud on purpose.

Instead, this bastard tells you how you have no place amongst the Demon Slayers and just like with his younger brother Genya, he tries to get you to quit also, but only because he is certain that is the only way he can keep you safe.

He has seen you acting all happy and buddy-buddy with other Hashiras and he knows it's none of his business who you spend time with, but it annoys him to see you smile so sweetly to someone you don't even know that well.

It takes time, so much time and work until he doesn't call you a bitch and instead uses your real name. When he does this, you can immediately tell something is different, and that he has changed his view of you.

You may be tempted to be an ass and tease him, but you know that Sanemi wouldn't say or do something if he didn't mean it. Maybe the two of you could get along? You are both willing to try, even if a little reluctant.

Old habits die hard so he may call you bitch now and then, but it's more affectionative than insulting. In the same way, you may call him a bastard, but there isn't the usual aggressive bite in your words. No, it's much sweeter now.

Sanemi starts to hang around you, but not necessarily in the same room as you. He might be secretly listening to you sing but if you catch him listening, he gets defensive and may unintentionally say something like, "I just came to check who was killing the cat here!"

It doesn't help that you usually have a stray cat or two following you around. You're like a damn cat magnet and they like you almost as much as you adore them.

Sanemi doesn't mind cats, but they seem to love him also for some reason. It's like he chases humans away but attracts cats?

It might take a close situation where you are almost killed before Sanemi comes clear and tells you that he likes you out loud. The fear of losing you would shed away all his protective walls and show the tender love he has inside.

After that, he would start dreaming of a peaceful life with you in a world where Demons don't exist anymore. Maybe have a kid or two if you want any or travel a little? Whatever it is, he wants to do it with you by his side until the day you both enter the next life.

I know you, my dear friend and I know how you love Sanemi, so I kept it a secret, but I totally think Sanemi is your match!

#demon slayer #demon slayer matchup #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #sanemi shinazugawa #1julak1 #matchup #Surprise! #I hope you enjoy your match Friend! #ENJOY!

[slasheddreams]

The Figure in The Mirror [ broken glass / blood rain ] - The Expurgation Series [ broken glass / blood rain ]

content warning for: [ foul language, descriptions of character death, mentions of blood and violence, and implications of childhood violence. Oh, and a little bit of classical insanity. ]

Sometimes, the figure in the mirror is right about you. In an almost mocking sense, it’s always right.

It knows you deep down inside, like an old friend who never really left. Someone who, for better and for worse, is always there, right by your side.

He really isn't you. But rather, someone you feel like you know. A little trickier to catch out, because he isn't always there. Sometimes it's just me and my reflection. It's a little hard to tell, sometimes.

It's like a perfect simulacrum, you can't tell anything is wrong at first. Sure, something feels a little off, like a hair out of place... or a missing scar. It's always something really small.

Of course, it isn't always so subtle. Even if only I can see it, it's staggering how different people can look from their reflections in the right scenarios. Maybe it's only difficult because me and him are twins, so there's little to tell us apart to begin with. I hated him for that. I only ever felt like half of a person.

Even if he technically doesn't exist anymore.

Even if no one remembered he ever existed to begin with.

That sucks.

Looking in the mirror is... odd sometimes. In our world, her hair is an almost... dusted cherry red color, and it's rather long, thick and messy. And her eyes are this light baby blue color. But in the mirror, sometimes, her hair is really short, and a soft blonde color. And her eyes are more... what is that color called? It's as if roses could be golden in color... I guess we'll call that color "rose gold" for now. Do you see what I mean? It's just... different.

Or that boy with the black hair and the white streak, and the purple eyes. Sometimes, his reflection is the opposite. Choppy uneven white hair with a black streak in the bangs, and really soft yellow eyes. He's a little taller, a little thinner than the one in our world. But he looks just as sweet and friendly. Hmm. I don't have much to say about that one.

And then there's the orange-haired boy with the mullet or that creepy missionary, or the light purple-haired boy, obsessed with birds and the idea of flight. They all look different in the mirror to me. But they don't see anything wrong with themselves. And it leaves me a little confused. How they can't see the fake thems in the mirror. Or, maybe they're the fake ones here, and the ones in the mirror, that's the real them?

... Of course, the actions themselves never seem to change. The words they seem to speak, the way they laugh, smile, cry, plead. Those were all the same.

Well, there was one. But I never gave them the time to mess with me. It was- no- he was a playful little thing. He liked to tap on objects, to roll items into view, to flicker the lights, and more.

He was like an attention-seeking whore in that way. When he was around, my eyes had to be on him, or I didn't get to have eyes anymore. He liked to be seen, to be heard, to be wanted.

And that was the mistake.

I hated him.

He looks human, but, he's not. Oh my god. He just isn't.

...

And that photographer wonders why I don't like mirrors. They make no sense.

Mirrors shouldn't be able to touch you.

...

Both of the mirrors in his personal quarters were covered with a thick, beige blanket. Mirrors were always a more sore subject for the man. He wasn't sure why.

It didn't take him long to shove his way through the small, crowded area he was forced to call his new home. Of course, he would rather be here than at his actual home. Sure, he loved his sister (... did he have a sister...? He couldn't actually remember. The medication they gave him made things really fuzzy.) but his parents... well, he didn't know too many things.

But he knew he never should have felt unsafe in his own home.

I think?

Papers and craft supplies littered the floor of the small room, which he stepped over with ease. Holding the plain black coffee in one hand, and the sweet caramel drink in the other, cradling the crepe against his chest, he maneuvered his way to the small desk, tucked away in the corner.

He paused a moment, rubbing his face in tired silence.

God.

He wasn't sure how long that coffee would save him, how long it would keep him awake. He hadn't slept in weeks.

He felt like shit. (Judging from the barista's reaction, he didn't look as terrible as he felt, at least.)

He took a seat down at his desk hesitantly (although, if you asked anyone else, it seemed more like he had collapsed into his chair.), simply staring at his shaking palms. The scars, he remembered how they started at his palms, and in a jagged, zigzag pattern, traveled up his arm, just past his elbow. Most of the scarring on his right arm was hidden beneath bandaging. Even if he had long since lost the ability to feel in that portion of his arm, he still was plagued by phantom pains. This was one of those moments, where a burning sensation flared up from his palm and seared his flesh.

"... shit! Oh, god damnit, son of a- mhm."

Biting his tongue, his fingers twitched in pain. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but he refused to cry over something so... stupid. Fuck you. Fuck that.

Leaning over the desk, he clasped a handful of his thick, messy brown hair in his shaking hand, tugging on his coat with his other hand. Trying to subdue the shakiness, trying to distract himself, he grasped at anything that could simply... distract.

And, with the sounds of light taps, distracted he was. Taps, just light enough to catch someone's attention, but not distinctive enough to tell where it was coming.

Of course, he wasn't just anyone. I was better than that.

Slowly turning his head and lowering his hand, Daishobu sneered as his eyes narrowed. Carefully, he placed his palm against the wooden desk, standing up. Light brown eyes scanned the small room, before falling on one of the covered-up mirrors.

"... yeah, no. I'm not doing this today."

And as quickly as he focused on the mirror, he looked away. He refused to give it any more of his attention, he knew that was exactly what it wanted. However, it refused to simply give in to this... unsatisfactory result, as the light tapping began again.

And then, this light tapping became sad (yet, clearly faked) sniffles and fishing voices. It began to cry, to whine, to sob, to mock.

"Do you not love me anymore, brother?"

"I'm not your brother. I don't even have a brother."

"Well, you did have a brother! But then, papa sent him to hell. And now, nothing remains but me. Boo hoo! Stop ignoring me."

Gripping onto the desk tightly, Daishobu looked away with a huff, shaking his head. This seemed to happen every time. It always wanted something, violently so. And while it was hard to ignore it, he had done it before. One time.

But he didn't know what it was he was dealing with at that time.

"Hey! Heyyy! Daishobu, Daishobu, Daiiii."

The gentle taps on the glass eventually turned into slightly harder bangs, shaking the frame of the mirror slightly. The blanket covering the mirror began to fall and then landed on the floor with a gentle thud. Daishobu groaned in response, covering his face in scared hands. Maybe he should have super glued those blankets to the mirrors, he thought. That way, at least, they couldn't fall off.

“… heyyy… heyyy don’t ignore me. That isn’t kind! That isn’t very peace and friendship.”

He paused at the sentiment for a moment, before rubbing his face in annoyance.

“Peace and friendship…? You should be the last person to trying and pull that card on me. Hell, you ARE the absolute last person whose opinion I should be giving a damn about.”

Sneering in response, he kept his back turned, racking shaky hands through his hair. Looking at the sweet caramel drink and the strawberry crepe on his desk, he paused a moment.

“…But, sure. Peace and fuckin’ friendship. Consider this my peace and friendship to you, you eldritch squander. Now can you stop usin’ my reflection as your vessel and fuck off?”

Without turning around, he gestured to the items by his side. Rubbing his eyes slowly, he groaned. He was astonished at how little he cared anymore. How little hearing the footsteps coming up behind him actually bothered him.

No. They weren't really footsteps. Moreso, it was the sound of the countless papers from behind him moving and being pushed aside. It doesn't make noise when it walks. But, in his head, he could see "himself" using his feet to clear a path forward.

Feeling a hand running along his shoulder, not really there. And then, multiple hands resting along his back. It should have bothered him, knowing he was the only person in this room. Hell, he should have been bothered that this... thing was touching him. But it didn't bother him in the slightest.

What bothered him was the mirror near the desk, watching as the beige blanket was slowly tugged off the mirror's surface, until the blanket fell onto the floor, revealing a reflection of the room he sat in.

"... That's better. Woah, you've let yourself go. You look like shit."

"Wow. Thanks for the compliment, asshole."

And, center in its reflection, stood... himself. Well, it looked like him if you only spared a glance. Ignoring the dark mass of hands coming from just behind the reflection and the red eyes, then yeah, it looked pretty damn close.

Watching as the coffee was picked up in the reflection, Daishobu yawned. His breath hitched as he felt a hand creep along the nape of his neck, fingers gently scraping against his jaw. With a violent twitch and an instinctive smack towards the air, he hissed. He hated the feeling on being touched, of having hands laid on him in any sort of manner. He despised it.

He loathed it.

"And the crepe... you even got it broken in half and dipped in chocolate? Wow! You do love me after all! I'm enthused! I'm overjoyed even! I feel so lucky!"

Shuddering a bit, Daishobu looked away from the mirror. Remembering the words of the bartender, his eyes rested on the window.

"The old witch said someone used to order that same thing, what's up with that, huh? You said they don't remember anything from the past, was that a fuckin' lie?"

"I dunno, she didn't recognize you, isn't that proof enough? I mean, if I got burnt alive like an actual witch and allowed to remember that, I'd totally remember the face of the man who killed me. But that's just me, personally speaking."

To this statement, he could only roll his eyes in response. Leaning on his hand, he groaned. Memories of a burning fire flashed before his eyes, the screams and sobs from within the cafe... and the gross sound of crackling bones and oozing organs as the cafe fell to pieces.

It didn't matter. He had reduced all three of the cafe residents to ash.

"Mhm... hey, let's not talk about that one. That's not relevant to my question either way."

Shrugging off the hypothetical (and, attempting the shrug off the many invisible hands he could feel creeping on him), Daishobu continued on.

"You said they wouldn't remember. So why would she remember a drink and snack combo as highly specific as yours? She never mentioned it in the past."

"Simple. You never ordered it in the past. You would have never known!"

"And yet, there I fucking was, asshole. With a familiar drink."

"Well, even if I told you this hypothetical truth, you'd never believe me. So, boo hoo! Move on-"

...

"H-Huh?"

The reflection had stopped talking suddenly, more focused as a beautiful crimson-red began blooming from the bandages around his neck, a thick, viscous liquid beginning to dip from the cut. Blood began to pour from the reflection's slit throat, staining the reflected room's floor in crimson tides.

But in the real world, the only thing that remained was the fresh blood staining the blade the man held in his hand. Tilting his wrist slightly, he flicked the blood off the blade, splattering the sheets beneath his arm.

"O. Oh. So, you've made your choice. I-I won't forgive you for this one, you know-"

"I don't care. Just die already, █████."

The reflection's hand began to tremble lightly as it rose its hands to its bleeding throat. Despite everything, it wore a smile on its face. Even as crimson hues spilled through its fingers and it fell onto one knee, it never once seemed bothered.

"You're just a little bit of a monster, aren't you, Daishobu?"

And then, it collapsed onto the floor and moved no longer.

...

Mhm.

He knew it would be back.

Standing up from his desk, he twirled the small pocket knife in his hand before carefully wiping the blood against his sleeve. Humming to himself, he closed the switchblade before placing it in the inside pocket of his coat.

Then, turning to face the mirror, he paused. Moving around his foot, his eyes focused on the reflection's corpse (can it even properly die?). Then, winding his foot back, he kicked the air as hard as he could. His foot collided with the otherwise invisible corpse, earning him the sound of crackling bones as the reflection's corpse was violently sent flying out of view.

"... Hmm."

And then, snatching the now cold crepe from his desk, he turned to face the closed door.

The door opened with an eerie creak, and then, it slammed shut as the man left his room, as if nothing had happened.

...

The figure in the mirror can be right about you, sure.

But, what does it matter if it's dead? Dead people tell no tales.

So, stop talking, █████.

#[ broken glass -- dark themed writing ] #[ and here she lies the expurgation series ] #[ 'daishobu' -- who are you really? ] #[ man in the mirror -- █████ ] #[ uhm. yip. yippee for writing? ] #[ okay i skuttle away to go and hide now ]

[just-kit-ink]

Ohhh the idea of Katherine walking in on Smartaz and Fleur got me thinking. Would Katherine be upset because she thinks Fleur is cheating on Ben? (Which, she is technically. But it's more complicated than that).

I'm not sure if Katherine would have actually seen Benjamin, unless he visited her kingdom, but I can imagine word spreading of the 'poor princess and her scared husband', and how he's paying everything to keep her safe (Fleur doesn't want to be saved anymore. Ben isn't putting in any real effort to save her, and is doing everything he can do other than the one thing he was told to do out of pride. Not to mention how he was always paranoid of Fleur having an affair before and their just generally unhappy marriage).

Katherine may have only heard that part of the story- unless she saw Ben before and got suspicious of his self-pitying behavior. So when she sees the princess and dragon favoring each other, knowing she's married and her husband is supposedly doing his best, how do you think she'd respond?

(If Katherine was upset with her, Fleur would understand and feel the guilt come back. But she would also be willing to explain what their marriage was really like and how Smartaz, in a way, helped her escape that (she knows nothing about him making Ben pay him money however. That was all Smartaz and his gang). Meanwhile, I don't think Smartaz won't appreciate Katherine speaking ill of his wife 😅)

//Ooh medieval dating politics 😅

I can see her being...completely flabbergasted at first (because well, wouldn't you be it's a human and a dragon, brazenly in a romantic relationship) but once Fleur explained to her the devastating unhappiness within her breast at what her life was like with Ben and how this whole ordeal has shaped her as a better person, there may be understanding on Katherine's part. Sure, your family is supposed to choose your husband you don't really choose each other without either party's approval and let's be honest, no one is going to approve of this but the dragon can talk like a lord when he wants and treats Fleur like a lady. So can the princess really be blamed since she was treated so or is she hysteric from the excitement? In Katherine's view, mayhaps there is truth in both. But she vehemently believes the stories of Benjamin being a pompous fraud.

Also it would be really funny if in this AU instead of cops, she hates knights 😆

#marinerainbow #who framed roger rabbit #kitty hawkins #toon patrol #poppy o'hare #oc #au

[amothersvow]

>>I said I'd talk about Kaspan and Eliyen, and I WILL talk about Kaspan and Eliyen

This is campaign specific stuff, so I'll put it under the cut

For some context, Kaspan is a PC in our campaign. He's a dhampir with severe memory loss/issues, due to him traversing the Deadlands, which is a very toxic wasteland in the south east of the continent. He can briefly regain memories by consuming human(oid) flesh.

Him and Eliyen met some years ago, when he first became a dhampir and slaughtered everyone in a run down bar. She let him do it and intented on killing him in turn, but when she couldn't, they decided to travel together. They've since figured out that Eliyen's music calms his bloodlust too, and Kaspan as a device that plays some of her songs.

SO

I can only really speak on Eliyen's feelings towards Kaspan, since it's not my place to speak on another player's character.

Eliyen adores Kaspan, ridiculously so, much more than she lets on. She often feels he's the only one who understands her situation; he needs to kill to keep his memory, she needs to kill because of her pact. They're in a similar situation, Eliyen really can't tell anyone else about it without receiving harsh judgement or death right then and there. She clings to Kaspan, as he's been one of the only constants in her life since her pact with Azar. A light, of sorts, a source of comfort. Someone to confide in. Someone who isn't judging her for what she does.

In Eliyen's view, Kaspan kills out of necessity, and she kills for "selfish" reasons; she could just leave her debt as is and take the torture in the afterlife instead of ridding 1000 people of their lives. Yet out of fear of it, she does it anyways. Because of that, she views herself as a monster, as someone to stay away from. And she's so stunned that Kaspan is still with her, because, technically they don't really need each other anymore. Kaspan has the recording of Eliyen's songs to keep his bloodlust at bay, and Eliyen doesn't really need to be protected, she can defend herself just fine. Well, tbf, Eliyen needs Kaspan for emotional support and comfort, but she'd be relatively fine by herself. She just couldn't bring herself to leave him, even if she knows (thinks) he'd be better off without her.

She also doesn't really let on how much she adores Kaspan, partically because she thinks no one could love a monster like her, and partically because Kaspan is probably going to live a lot longer than her. He's ageless, at this point, he might just live forever, while she, now that she had to trade in her elven form for her tiefling one, will live 80 - 100 more years at most. She'll age and wither away and die, and she can't do that to Kaspan. She can't reveal how she feels and then eventually just leave him behind. I think her plan for the time being is fulfill her pact, get her revenge and reunite with her daughter so she can retire.

I've,,, been writing on this for so long I kinda lost the point lmao. Point being, Eliyen really adores Kaspan but would never let it on, not in a way he'd realize. Or maybe she already has, once or twice, but he's just forgotten, which is a thought I really like. The thought of her going "you'll forget in a few days time, and that is fine, just know that I adore you, much more than you may realize" and then she watches as the memory of it fades from him. Idk. I like them, they're a tragic duo, and I think they can only end in tragedy.

#» some have said that about me… [musings] « #» a personal anecdote [eliyen] « #» the ashes formerly known as green [campaign things] « #» so ive heard… [headcanons] « #» at the campfire [ooc] « #cw cannibalism #cw death #cw murder #cw memory loss #this is so incoherent lmao #i just love kaspan and eliyen as a duo #theyre just #ugh theyre everything #they have such a dynamic

[many-gay-magpies]

@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

#magpie writes #magpie's writing adventures #enhypen fanfiction #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse writing #enhaverse #enha theories #gay yearning #bloodlust

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

January 3rd or One's Beginning is another's end (Daughters of Darkness)

This passage contains potentially: Explicit Language, Depictions of Violence (including mentions of blood), Smoking, Slang and maybe some bad translations.

Summary: An introduction to the world of the Daughters of Darkness, through the eyes of series protagonist Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian. The first day and night, from her perspective, of them working for the WWF.

Kirby's POV:

Tuesday. The first day of being 'on the job', Tuesday the third of January 1984. Damien got us into the WWF. … Damien, managed to get us into the quickest rising wrestling promotion, popularity wise. To be honest with you, Damien's given us free reign to get to know people, for now. I don't know anyone here. I've heard of people here, such as the most famous giant in the world, and … Hogan.

I'm not here because I earned it, I'm here because I'm a necessity for the team. That's how I view it. That's how I've always viewed it. Vickie needed someone to make fun of and, well, I'm the easiest choice. Then, in the midst of a darker path of thought becoming clearer in my mind...

WHAM

Both me and the figure I waltzed into thudded to the floor, "Oh, my good lord. I'm so sorry are you o..."

I looked at the figure before me, taking in how much trouble I had created in the last three seconds.

Taller than myself.

Head covered by a wild afro.

Around double my weight.

André.

André the giant.

Flat on his arse … because of me.

Oh … Shit.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle…"

I could tell he was searching for a name but didn't know it. Too frightened to even speak I glanced away. I noticed his shadow move.

"Mademoiselle?"

His footsteps came closer, he sounded … worried, as if he didn't want me to get fired for this.

"Mademoiselle?"

He picked me up, not off the ground, but so I could stand. I whispered out a small 'thank you', or rather 'merci'. His hands still on my shoulders, he smiled sweetly and nodded, as if to beckon forth more words from me.

"I'm Kirby, or rather, Gluttony. I'm new around here."

André grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer before stopping upon seeing how much taller than every other woman in the company I am.

"Are you, uh …" he searched for the words

"A giant, yes, technically a giantess."

I feel I should summarise the next hour or so, but, André took me on a tour of the backstage area and we talked, about everything. Within an hour I had gained a new friend, a genuine friend, someone who didn't care about my height or looks. I know the only reason he didn't care is because he knows what it's like to be stared at just because you aren't 'normal'.

By the time André's tour had ended it was time for Vickie and Damien's interview with Mean Gene, which I was to attend. I said a goodbye to André and rushed off to perform my usual role.

The Enforcer, or rather, the intimidation device, that's my role in this group, to scare people, that's all I do. Before joining the group I was part of another group back in England, The Celtic Warriors, I was part of a championship winning tag team. Now what am I, a damned intimidation device, a human scare tactic.

The Interview:

Gene's first question for us, actually, Damien and Vickie (whilst I stood behind them and looked 'menacing'), was 'How are you doing so far?'

Damien began, "You know something, Gene, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape, ready to rock, ready to roll. Gene, every one of the Daughters of Darkness are doing fine."

Vickie followed suit, "Just look at us," She gestured to me and then herself, "Don't we look marvellous, Gene."

Gene smirked, "You could say that again, miss?"

"Pride, though you can call me Vickie."

Damien glared at the smaller man, almost as if he was daring him to try and flirt with her.

Gene readjusted and focused in on the prospect of new women in the WWF and the possibility of more matches. "Uh hum, yes, now how soon do you girls think you'll be seeing a match on the cards?"

"Soon, Gene, Soon." Vickie stated, ending the interview by walking off.

The first night after 'work' was surprisingly normal, Damien and Vickie went off in their rental car, taking Holly and Eli with them whilst the rest of us stood around backstage for a while.

Billie brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse, lighting one up and walking over to me, sitting down on a box placed near by and blowing the smoke away from me she spoke up.

"What's up with you, Tall-ass."

"Thinking."

"Dangerous pastime hermana."

"I know, hermana"

"You collect phrases, don' cha?"

"They may come in handy, Billie, one day."

"You going to the gym tomorrow?"

"Of course. Gotta train. Gotta … gotta settle in somehow, right?"

"Right, mi hermana, I'll see you around, alright?"

"See ya, Billie."

She waved back at me as she walked away.

Billie was the only person who knew that I 'collected' those little phrases that seem like nothing until spoken. Language isn't my strongest aspect, more often than not I'm silent and I try to avoid other peo-

"Hey! watch where you're walking man!" I yelped out, shocked back into the present moment. Instantly regret flooded my mind as I realised who had barged past me to get out of the building.

Big John Studd.

One of the most disrespectful 'giants' in the world of wrestling. famous for being the one man who pisses André off more than anyone else, including the Iron Sheik.

He sneered back a quick, "Who gives a fuck." and continued to stroll away.

That … that fuckwit. Who does he think he is. I felt a gentle hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Eli or P.G, I was face to, well, chin with André.

"Forget about him," He started, with that same sweet, friendly smile from earlier, "Damien said you may need a ride back to the hotel. I don't recommend you walk back now, too dark out for a young lady such as yourself."

The way his R sounds turned into faint W's and he missed off or faintly implied H's was calming. Almost in the same way that hearing a parents voice would calm a child after a nightmare.

"Oh, uh, it's okay André, I was going to get a taxi."

He nodded in response, somehow both downhearted and curious, as if he knew that I was either lying to him or if I did get a taxi, the immense pain my back would be in the following day. André sauntered off, leaving me, once again by myself.

I don't mind being alone, in fact most of my life I have been alone, always the outcast, it was only when I got into wrestling that it started to change.

I picked up my bag and started walking, buttoning up my shirt up to the top of my chest, my near-neon orange shirt covering down to my mid-forearm, hiding any noticeable tattoos, except the one on my wrist, when I turned eighteen, I got a small, runic 'R' on my right wrist, in remembrance of my uncle Rory, the tallest of my dad's brothers.

It took about an hour to get to the hotel, an hour of walking through a city I'm not familiar with, when I eventually got to the hotel I went straight to my room and locked myself in. All alone, I could practice or train if I wanted, so I did.

I took off my black shirt, shoes and belt and I stood in the middle of the hotel room and practiced punching, then I switched to doing my warmups and working out, push-ups, planks, squats. By the time I finished it must've been around midnight, maybe one or two am. I got some sleep, waking up at six, getting changed into some fresh workout gear and headed straight to the gym.

You meet all sorts of characters at a gym, or so I've been told. Back in England I would go to my parents house and use our home-made gym to work out. Not an option that I have anymore, however, the moment I got into the gym, I felt like I was in a whole new world, as if I was just getting into the business all over again. I scanned for any faces that I knew, Mr Fuji, Tonga Kid, Sgt Slaughter, Don Muraco, Lou Albano, Iron Sheik, Freddie Blassie, Tito Santana, Jimmy Snuka, Bob Backlund, Gene and Pat, David Schultz, and … who is that?

I walked over to David and this mystery guy, nodding at David and heading to the heavy bag next to them.

"Mornin' Gluttony, André's been talkin' about ya."

"Oh really, Mr Schultz?" I tried to keep my breath noises to a minimum as I continued to hit the bag.

The mystery guy snickered, quickly shutting up after Schultz glared at him.

"C'mon girl, you know you can call me David. An' yeah," He stopped punching and instead leaned on the heavy bag in front of him, forcing the other guy to hold it still "Giant's been talking about him havin' a new friend and how much he likes ya."

"He's a good man, it's good to have friends in new places. Who's your pal, David?"

He smiled and slung his arm around the shorter man, "This here, this is Roddy Piper. He's like you."

I tilted my head slightly to try and make him explain further.

"You are Scottish, right?"

"I'm a quarter Scottish. Anyway, Piper, Do you speak Gaelic?"

"Uh, no, I can play the bagpipes however." his eyes lit up slightly, a sort of mad fire behind a haze of brown or maybe dark blue.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess, I've gotta warm up for later though."

I tried to block the two men out and focus on my own workout but Piper seemed to stick around a lot longer than David. He was still there when my workout ended.

"What do you want?"

"You're a quarter Scottish, you're also a giant. How do you fight? Show me." He seemed to get more energetic the more he talked.

"Right now?"

He nodded, "Right now, c'mon."

He led me to a ring that some other wrestlers were using to brush up their skills.

From the looks of the ring, it was actually used for boxing.

Roddy entered the ring the same way as most six-foot-two guys did, through the top and middle ropes. I tested the ropes, and seeing that they had just enough slack, used them to jump over the top rope.

"I've never seen a girl do that before."

"Mistake number one, I'm a woman, not a girl. Mistake number two, you expected a giant to be normal."

He scoffed out a laugh and got ready to lock up.

We locked up and Piper hit me with a knee to the stomach.

I got him back with an Irish whip into the corner, accidentally winding him by being too stiff.

"You're gonna pay for that, lass." He snarled out, already getting pissed off.

I sized him up, trying to see how high I would have to get myself in order to dropkick him to the mat.

Piper tried to hit me with a running high knee strike but I countered with a dropkick, taking us both down to the mat and slamming my face into the mat.

The mat was a lot harder than I was used to, it felt like I had rammed my head straight into a cinderblock, I started breathing heavier than before.

I rolled over and put my arms up, making an 'X' with my forearms. Piper stopped and walked over.

"You alright?"

I shook my head.

He knelt down and pulled me up into a sitting position.

I hesitated, knowing I had to take my mask off to see what was wrong but truly not wanting to. Piper managed to unbuckle the straps of my mask and winced as he saw what was underneath. My mind went slightly mad not knowing if he was wincing at the injury I had caused myself or the fact that, compared to the rest of the D.O.D, I'm truly the worst looking, beauty-wise, that is.

Hitting my mouth so hard on the canvas of the mat below us, I had managed to hit my mask in a way that the bottom edge, which curved under my chin, cut into my flesh and made me bleed.

I put my hand up to the cut and Piper quickly held my arm by the wrist and shook his head, "Don't you dare."

By the time I received medical aid, which consisted of cleaning the cut and putting a band-aid on it, Piper had given me back my mask and asked if he could work out with me sometime. Knowing that he was currently on a different show, I said sure and we had split ways.

END OF ONE'S BEGINNING IS ANOTHER'S END / JANUARY 3RD

#Lucifarians #wrestling fic

[orbemnews]

Exclusive: The 27-year-old behind ethereum isn't surprised by the crypto crash He stressed, however, that it’s “notoriously hard to predict” when bubbles will pop. “It could have ended already,” Buterin said. “It could end months from now.” By Wednesday morning, ether, the in-house currency on the network Buterin invented, crashed below $1,900 — a staggering drop of more than 40% from Tuesday night, according to Coinbase. Ether rebounded to around $2,700 Thursday morning, but that’s still down sharply from the record high of $4,384 on May 11. The nosedive may have cost Buterin, a Russian-Canadian programmer who dropped out of college, his newfound status as a crypto billionaire. The value of ether in Buterin’s closely watched public wallet stood at approximately $870 million Thursday morning, down from around $1.1 billion the morning before. Even though he’s just 27, Buterin is a veteran of these crypto boom-bust cycles, at least as much as anyone can be. “We’ve had at least three of these big crypto bubbles so far,” said Buterin, who co-founded Bitcoin Magazine in 2012. “And often enough, the reason the bubbles end up stopping is because some event happens that just makes it clear that the technology isn’t there yet.” ‘Crypto isn’t just a toy anymore’ Buterin laid out his vision for ethereum in a 2013 white paper, and ethereum launched two years later. Today it’s the second-largest cryptocurrency, behind only bitcoin. Unlike bitcoin, which is viewed as “digital gold,” ethereum is a blockchain-based platform for developers to build and operate apps. It’s like the Android or iOS of the crypto space. In late 2017, Buterin published a tweet storm that questioned whether the crypto space had really earned its market valuation, which at the time had just surpassed half a trillion dollars. He noted how little had actually been accomplished and crypto prices soon tanked. Unlike then, Buterin is encouraged by the “huge” progress the technology and applications have made in recent years. For example, ethereum activity has skyrocketed in recent months because it is the network that backs the sale of many non-fungible tokens, or NFTs. “It feels like crypto is close to ready for the mainstream in a way that it wasn’t even four years ago,” Buterin said. “Crypto isn’t just a toy anymore.” Buterin added that although he’s not sure, there is a “possibility” that ethereum eventually catches up and surpasses bitcoin in market value. The Elon factor Yet ethereum, and cryptocurrencies broadly, still have problems. One, they remain extremely volatile, especially for retail investors used to tamer moves in the stock market. And some billionaires appear to be treating crypto as playthings. Elon Musk’s on-again, off-again love affair with various coins have sent shockwaves through the entire space. Crypto sentiment took a turn after Musk tweeted on May 12 that Tesla (TSLA) would stop accepting bitcoin as payment because of concerns about the cryptocurrency’s environmental footprint. (The complex bitcoin mining process requires vast amounts of computer power and electricity.) A stunning $365 billion vanished from the crypto space that day, according to CNBC. Buterin acknowledged that crypto markets tend to be “vulnerable” to disruptive events before they “build up an immune system over time.” “Elon Musk tweeting is something that the crypto space has only been introduced to for the first time literally last year and this year,” Buterin said. “I think it’s reasonable to expect a bit of craziness. But I do think that the markets will learn. Elon is not going to have this influence forever.” Buterin chalked up Musk’s dogecoin fascination to an innocent interest. “The fact that he is a 100-plus billionaire and he runs Tesla and SpaceX and all these things doesn’t change the fact that ultimately he’s a human — and humans get excited about dog coins. That’s just a thing that humans get excited about,” Buterin said. “I don’t think that Elon has a kind of malevolent intent in any of this.” Buterin: Please stop gifting me random coins Another dog coin that humans get excited about is Shiba Inu, which was started as a joke that plays off dogecoin (yes, a parody of a parody). Shiba collapsed by about a third last week after Buterin donated what was at the time worth a billion dollars to a Covid-19 relief fund in India. The selloff underscored the lack of liquidity in some of these alt coins. “The challenge with these dog coins is that the markets for them are still fairly thin,” Buterin said. “There is not actually a way to sell a billion dollars of Shiba coin and get more than a couple of million dollars out of hit.” Buterin also recently announced plans to burn, or remove from circulation, 90% of his Shiba holdings, which had been gifted to him. In the transaction hash, Buterin said he didn’t want to be a “locus of power of that kind.” During the interview, Buterin stressed he doesn’t want “random people” who create coins to give him coins for “marketing” purposes. “First of all, I don’t really know or understand many of these projects well. So, I can’t endorse them,” he said. “I see in my wallet that I have like a few thousand dollars of something called free coin. I don’t know what free coin is.” Buterin urged people who want to “do something warm and fluffy” with coin supply to donate it to charity directly. Governments can make life difficult for crypto The latest crypto crash was triggered in part by concerns about a crackdown in China. A trio of Chinese finance and banking watchdogs said Tuesday that financial institutions and payment companies should not participate in any transactions related to cryptocurrency, nor should they provide crypto-related services to clients. Speaking before the China news, Buterin acknowledged that regulation “is always a concern,” though fears of outright bans have faded. “It just seems much harder and much less realistic to do anything like that,” Buterin said. “At the same time, governments do have a lot of power to make it more painful to participate in the crypto sector.” Even though the blockchain is decentralized and “governments can’t completely take them down,” Buterin said government can block or limit access. “It’s important to listen to regulators to try to do our best to address concerns,” Buterin said, adding that the risk is the relationship between crypto and regulators becomes “more confrontational than it needs to be.” Buterin is ‘very confident’ ethereum fees will tumble Billionaire Mark Cuban complained to The Defiant in February that ethereum is being limited by “ridiculous” transaction costs, a problem that is inhibiting its growth. Buterin acknowledged transaction fees are “very high right now” and that the ethereum blockchain can only process between 20 and 50 transactions per second despite very high demand. But the ethereum inventor said he’s “very confident” costs will come down because of a major technical makeover underway that will allow it to rapidly scale up. Ethereum is moving away from Proof of Work, the original algorithm in blockchain technology, toward a newer concept called Proof of Stake. In short, the upgrade will mean that participants are incentivized with a reward, paid in ether, to remain online and keep the network in check. This will do away with the energy-consuming race that comes with proof-of-work. The climate problem At the same time, the switch to proof of stake will allow ethereum to cut its energy usage by between 1,000 and 10,000 times, Buterin said. “We go from consuming the same energy as a medium-sized country to consuming the same energy as a village,” he said. Bitcoin, on the other hand, runs on proof of work — a key difference that Buterin argues legitimizes the environmental worries around bitcoin. “I definitely think [those concerns] are real,” he said. “The resource consumption is definitely huge. It’s not the sort of thing that’s going to break the world by itself, but it’s definitely a significant downside.” Buterin added that it’s not just the power consumption of bitcoin miners, but the hardware required to do the mining. That’s why Buterin said there will be more calls within the bitcoin community to either switch to proof of stake, or move towards a hybrid, as it evolves and adapts to technological progress. “If bitcoin sticks with its technology exactly as it is today,” he said, “there’s a big risk it will get left behind.” Source link Orbem News #27yearold #Crash #crypto #ethereum #Exclusive #investing #isnt #surprised #VitalikButerin:The27-year-oldbehindethereumisn'tsurprisedbythecryptocrash-CNN